Touch of Your Fingertips
by hestia-Prytaneum
Summary: Further into the unknown - Liz & Red are sent on a mission to catch their latest blacklister - How far are they willing to go to pursue what they want most - Set around S02 - "Touch provides its own language of compassion, a language that is essential to what it means to be human...Angst/Adventure/Romance
1. Chapter 1

**Touch of Your Fingertips **

Touch provides its own language of compassion, a language that is essential to what it means to be human. Everyday forms of touch can bring us emotional balance and better health. A pat on the back, a caress of the arm—these are everyday, incidental gestures that we usually take for granted, thanks to our amazingly dexterous hands.

_**Compassion is literally at our fingertips. - Dacher Keltner**_

A Red x Lizzie story. Season 2 future.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything, just for fun. Just give me one day in the writer's room and our otp would be canon. Involves a lot of Facebook Prompts – try to find them.

Thank you jadenanne7 for being my emergency Beta ;-) and my team of proofreaders.

This is dedicated to Em, I know that she would have loved the blacklist.

My first Blacklist story. I have not written in over a decade.

I hope you enjoy. If all goes well, there will around 11 chapters.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

**CH1 – The Unknown. **

_**The Post Office **_

It was just like any other ordinary day. A blacklister was on the loose, and the FBI, as usual, needed the help of Raymond Reddington. Liz was tired. Exhausted. Torpid. She rubbed her slick forehead, releasing a weary sigh. _Why can't I just go to bed? _Through half-lidded eyes, Liz tried to focus on the ticking clock in Cooper's office. Time goes by so damn slow. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Just another hour before it was over. Liz could feel the start of a headache at the back of her skull. Throbbing. Warning her about the lack of sleep. Dreams. Reddington. Two things that kept her up most nights for the past few weeks. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to relax, his face would appear in her subconscious mind. Her limbic system was disruptive to her everyday life. 

'_What do you want Agent Keen? Who do you really want?'_

"Agent Keen. Yes or no?" Cooper's stern voice startled her, her nails pressed into the rough concrete wall behind her, leaving marks. Her heart skipped a beat. 'Shit, shit, shit!'Everyone was staring at her impatiently. She could feel their disapproving gazes. Red was the only one that seemed slightly amused. Busted. Her eyes adjusted to the piercing light of Cooper's office before squinting at him. '_What was the question?'_

Red cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him. Everyone's attention shifted back towards the magnetic presence sitting at Cooper's desk.

"Well, I think Agent Keen's silence speaks volumes, Harold. She has no objections. Do you, Agent KEEN?" One brow lifted in question, his lips formed a sly smile. Liz met his gaze with confusion and scowled. The bastard knew she was not listening. Liz crossed her arms in a defensive stance. Bracing herself for the onslaught from her response.

"I'll do whatever is necessary for the case, Sir." Her voice came out more confident than she felt. She mentally patted herself on the back. Nice safe. Her eyes met Red's sea greens in passing. _'Damn you, Raymond Reddington. What the hell did I just say yes to?'_

Red bobbed his head approvingly and grabbed his fedora of the Assistant Director's desk, placing it on top of his head, adjusting the brim with the tip of his fingers before he stood up.

"We must be leaving. Time is money and with this economy, it is plummeting as we speak. Ready, Agent Keen?" he asked eyeing her over his shoulder. It wasn't really a question, nor did he wait for her reply. With a curt nod to Cooper, he left, passing Liz on his way out, lingering outside the door for her to follow suit.

Liz nodded at Cooper and turned to leave when a firm albeit soft hand touched her left shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. "Do you want to borrow a dress? I have one in my locker," the Iranian beauty asked in mock kindness, looking her up and down pensively. "Might be a little large on the top, but I'm sure it will fit you." Chocolate brown eyes met stormy blues.

"If Reddington insists on me, this will have to do," Liz replied with determination and a slight edge to her voice, making it clear that Red wanted her and only her. She did not trust Samar, especially the way she looked at Red. Speaking of Red, she could feel his smug smirk rather than see him snickering behind her back. Samar squeezed her shoulder harder than necessary before letting go, holding her hands up in surrender. Miss Innocent.

"Just wanting to help out. You do look like a cop, you know. Not the best undercover outfit for this kind of operation."

Liz squinted her eyes, taking in her own appearance. Her FBI issued outfit looked like wrinkled drapes after a long day of court. She wore a black tailored suit jacket and a sheer, sleeveless, burgundy wine red blouse with a black pencil skirt that hit her at the knee, paired with black 3-inch heels. Her headache intensified, wondering where the hell they were going that warranted a dress. Liz brushed her hands across the length of her jacket, the soft cotton fabric smooth, the tiny fabric hairs tickling the back of her palms, trying, unsuccessfully, to straighten out the wrinkles.

'_The woman should mind her own business._' Their only lead got away because of her. What did Aram and Red see in her anyway? A crease appeared on her forehead...her head was throbbing synchronically with her rising heart rate. Hands made their way to her hips, a move that was typically reserved for Ressler. The Superman stance. Empowering. Intimidating. She really missed her partner at this moment, wondering if this is how he felt upon meeting her for the first time, roughly a year ago. The tension was palpable, making everyone in the room slightly uncomfortable.

Liz was ready to reprimand Samar, but before she could get a word out, Red cut her off. "Agent Keen looks fine. Let's go, shall we?" Red's eyes pleaded her not to make a scene in front of her boss, who was observing the two agents, staring pensively at the scene in front of him.

Cooper shook his head, reclining himself further in his seat. He would never understand women. Why couldn't they just get along?

Liz didn't back down, and glared up at Agent Samar Navabi.

It was short lived as Red grabbed Liz by the arm, his fingers wrapping lightly around her bicep, ushering her out of the office and towards the elevator. The warmth of his hand seeped through the thin fabric of her jacket. Liz shrugged him off and walked roughly two feet in front of him, knowing he would have to follow her lead like a stray puppy, which was unbecoming to Red. He might be the number 4 most wanted criminal in the world, but she was hurt by his condescension towards her.

She was furious at Red for making her do whatever he pleased without so much as asking for her input, enraged at Samar for being Red's puppet, acting like a two-faced bitch towards her, irritated at Cooper for hiring her in the first place for no apparent reason other than to oblige Red, and mad at Ressler for becoming an addict and leaving her behind to pick up the pieces, for being on a 'holiday' from all this mess. But most of all, she was angry with herself for being angry in the first place...a feeling she was all too familiar with lately. God, she hated this job. The harsh tapping of her heels on the concrete floor reflected her anger. Her feelings followed her like withering echoes in the hollow hallways.

Reaching the lift, Liz pressed the button. The doors slid open as she entered and quickly pressed to close it again. She knew it was childish to make him wait, but at this point she didn't really care. Red caught up just before the doors shut, his fedora well placed in between. His eyes were amused and his lips quirked. His eyebrows almost reached the edge of his receding hairline. He was enjoying this. Liz's sour mood intensified as he took a stance next to her fidgeting with the brim of his fedora, clasped between his sturdy fingers that rested at his side.

Red glanced down at his expensive Rolex. "You know, Lizzie...she was right." The vibration of his deep voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them like a cold blanket. He peered up from his watch, scanning over her appearance.

Liz kept her eyes forward towards the door as the lift slowly made its descent. "And where, exactly, are we going that makes me not want to look like I do?" she questioned, challenging him to rebuke.

Red let out a small, throaty laugh. "Well, Lizzie. You should already know." Her name was dragged out in syllables, mocking her.

Liz frowned, her brows furrowed in mild confusion. He knew she was tired and had not listened to a word that was said in the confidence of Cooper's office. He was playing games. Now was just not the time.

Liz whipped her head around and strode two long steps towards him, leaving a mere inch of space between them. Anger seeped out of her pores as she took a stance to hit him, but instead rammed her right hand against the emergency button. With a sudden jerk the lift came to an abrupt halt. Her long digits gripped the plastic button, holding on for dear life. The button was smooth and round, unlike her. Her nails probably chipped from the sheer force of the impact.

Red didn't even flinch. He just examined her curiously, his eyes focused, golden brown through his amber colored glasses. Hot minty breath fanned Liz's face in short puffs. The smell of smoke, musky cologne mixed with his tangy aftershave overwhelmed her senses. Her right arm brushed his left. Shared body heat. The tips of his expensive, Italian, brown-pebbled leather shoes almost touched her simple black ones. Contradiction. An oxymoron of two things that did not belong yet fit so well together. She felt trapped in a cocoon of Red. Liz swallowed a lump as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips for a millisecond and back up again. If she wasn't this close, she might have missed it. Her confidence waned. What was she thinking? Well, she wasn't. Her emotions betrayed her often, making her act on impulse. Releasing her death grip on the button, she took a step back to regain her composure. Flexing her sore tendons, Liz let out a deep breath as she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Red, please not now. I am tired of this dance. Not tonight. Just...just tell me, okay?" Her eyes slowly re-opened, her soul exposed, pleading with him to help her out.

Red pursed his lips, and gave in. "Because of the incompetence of your dear colleagues, your only lead got away. Nothing new for you, I presume. However, I for one, know the person you are searching for. Doctor Noj Eisenkamp. A quack psychologist who hypnotizes his patients to kill targets for whoever is willing to pay. Afterwards, they have no recollection of the events nor of the kind doctor."

"And you know where he is?" Liz asked rhetorically.

Red did not catch this, tilting his head. "As a matter of fact, I do." A cocky smile spread across his face, like a kid who knows where the presents are hidden before Christmas.

Liz placed her hands on her hips, angled her head to the side to mimic his. A thing she caught herself doing more often lately. Why did this still surprise her? Of course he knew. He was Red...always prepared with an insidious plan. Or ridiculous. Take your pick. "Why not tell Cooper and the others?"

Red let out a rumble of fake laughter. "Now, now, Lizzie, where is the fun in that?" He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head sideways. "Your confidence in the bureau boggles me. They would swarm the place, spook the doc, and he would simply disappear into the dead of night, free to torment new patients in other cities as he strolls along. I will give you further details on our way over there."

Liz wondered where 'there' was exactly. He wouldn't tell her now anyway. He knew she might still refuse to tag along.

Red lifted his left hand, skimming her shoulder. "However, I must say that you do look like a cop...might be dangerous in the place we are going to," Red scoffed, a thin smile gracing his lips.

Liz crossed her arms, making his hand drop to his side again, and jutted her chin as if she did not know the implied danger of whatever an undercover mission entailed.

His eyes locked with hers, purposefully ignoring her body language. "Shall we pick up a dress along the way? I know a splendid little boutique just across..." Red's voice drifted, his mouth slightly agape, forming a perfect 'O' before snapping shut again.

His face unreadable as Liz shrugged her purse and jacket off, letting them drop with a deafening sound, her headache momentarily on the back burner. Liz grabbed his right shoulder for balance as she slipped her shoes off, never breaking eye contact. Next were her flesh colored nylon stockings. Hitching her skirt up her thighs and rolling them down her smooth legs felt oddly sexy in front of Red. She almost laughed at the thought that struck her. Good thing she shaved her legs this morning.

Red seemed enthralled with the movement. Captivated. His eyes followed the transparent cloth down until they hit the floor. His brows crunched together in mild concentration, trying to figure out the woman unfolding before him. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue in anticipation.

His eyes glazed over, as if he was seeing Liz, the real Liz, for the first time. Not as a girl, but as a desirable woman. He had always found her profoundly beautiful; how could he not? Auburn soft hair, piercing blue eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones, plump pink lips and a strong jaw combined with a body hardened by muscles, yet soft with curves...all hit Plato's so-called "golden proportions", based on the looks of Helen of Troy. His Lizzie could have been the queen of beauty. However, he never dared to see her as more than that.

Desire is a treacherous emotion and judging by the rhythm of his elevated heartbeat, he wanted her. Right now. His left hand balled into a fist. His short nails almost drew blood at the base of his palm. His right tightened on the brim of his Borsalino ice grey fedora, creasing the tender straws. His three-piece, slate gray, linen suit suddenly felt too hot for wear. He could feel his armpits starting to moisten, staining his crisp white button up and his lilac Zegna Paisley embroidered tie felt like a noose around his neck, trying to strangle him, depriving his brain from necessary oxygen, corrupting the blood flow downwards. He feels his chest tighten. His lips parted, wanting to tell her to stop or to keep going til the last stitch of fabric disappeared. He did not know which one would come out if he dared to speak. He did not even blink. His eyes felt dry. Sweat glands started to appear above his upper lip. The muscle under his left eye twitched.

For the first time in a long time, Red was speechless. Boneless. Unmoving.

Liz seemed to enjoy his discomfort quite a bit. The right side of her lips turned up as she worried her under lip, readjusting her skintight skirt. The sweaty palms of her hands smoothed down the dark elastic cotton. Her eyes stern. Determined. She felt reinvigorated. Alive. Desired. If he wanted a show, she would give him one. Before she could change her mind, Liz took the bobby pins that kept her hair up and pulled them out, letting them fall. Metal bounced off the ground before rolling away, coming to an abrupt halt in front of his feet. Her brown locks sprung free, hitting her right above the shoulders as she shook them out, ruffling her hair like some cheap L'Oreal commercial. Crouching down to grab something out of her purse, she stood up and applied some red lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, ignoring his pointed stare. Liz rubbed her lips together, releasing them with a loud pop, and tossed the lipstick back. She looked good. Unlike herself, yet not really different. Ready.

There was just one thing missing. On impulse, while still looking at herself and him, she unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse, giving Red a small peak of the black lace bra she wore underneath. Not her normal work attire, but it gave her more confidence in the courtroom. A Dita von Teese quote reminded her of just that. '_Lingerie is not about seducing men, it's about embracing womanhood.'_

Red did not look, nor did he utter a word, short of his elevating breathing. It would shatter his self-control. He swallowed a lump. The bobbing of his Adam's apple felt heavy, stuck in his dry throat.

Liz slipped her heels back on, grabbed her purse, discarded jacket and stuffed her stockings in the side pockets, draping the cloth over her right arm, not even bothering with the pins on the floor. Her usual demeanor was back in place, her expression stoic. Facing the door again, Liz turned her head sideways to where Red was standing, not daring to even glance at him.

"Red, could you push the button? We have to move quickly, do we not?" Her voice sounded more seductive than intended. It shocked her, how far she was willing to go to prove a point. Well it was too late to go back now.

As if stuck in quicksand, it took a moment for Red to respond as the elevator slowly jolted back to life, resuming its descent. He shook his head lightly, trying to rid his mind of unsavory thoughts...thoughts that had no place in their current situation or their current relationship, if that's what you could call it. He couldn't believe what just had transpired. His Lizzie was a little vixen. Provocative. It excited him yet simultaneously frightened him. She had him, all of him, and she did not even realize it. What would she do when she did…

All of a sudden, Liz felt her cheeks flare up, hot even under the blaring air-conditioning. Thousands of ants crawled up her body, from her toes up to her legs, abdomen, spine and arms, making her short hairs stand up. An involuntary pilomotor reflex. Goosebumps. She could sense his stare, sizing her up, no doubt.

What had she done? Was she trying to seduce Red, or just trying to affirm something in the deep recess of her own twisted mind? That she was more than a cop. More than his Lizzie. That she could do this. All of it. Be a woman and a capable agent_. 'Get a grip, Liz. Don't try to compartmentalize. Just relax._'

The deafening silence stretched on for mere seconds, before the lift reached the bottom with a jolt and slid open. Saved by the bell. Liz almost flew out. Embarrassment hit her right in the face and booted her on her derriere.

Just before she reached the top portion of the staircase she heard Red utter, "You, my dear, never cease to amaze me" his deep, husky voice, vibrating in the air. A careless whisper, so low that she was unsure if it was intended for her to hear.

A breeze hit her like a soft blanket of relief caressing her skin. Liz took a deep breath while descending the stairs, her shoes clicking on the hard metal. The railing of chipped paint was cold and sturdy under her fingertips. Dembe was at the bottom waiting for them. His dark eyes followed her every step of the way. Red hot on her heels. Reaching the last step, the handsome bodyguard held out his hand for her. She kindly took him up on his offer, rough, calloused finger pads brushing hers.

Dembe bowed his head in greeting. "Very nice, Agent Keen." A radiating smile adorned his face as he opened the door of the sleek Sedan.

Liz blushed, quickly taking her seat. As soon as the door closed, her boost of confidence and empowerment dissipated. Her body betrayed her uneasiness at being considered eye-candy. Instead she felt vulnerable and exposed. She was brought out of her reverie when Red slipped into his own seat, leaving a couple of inches of space between their bodies, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat, eyes sparkling. Unlike her he seemed delighted. Excited for what's to come next.

With a petulant toss of the head Liz broke eye contact as Dembe took his own seat and started the engine. Staring through the window, her headache brutally reared his ugly head again. Trepidation. All she wants to do, was to go back to her cheap hotel room and cuddle with Hudson before falling into a peaceful slumber.

Instead she was sitting next to the bane of her existence as thousands of blurred strangers passed by. Unaware of the world around them. Eyes wide shut. Her forehead pressed hard to the cold glass, trying to cool down her elevated temperature. Her hands were placed on the smooth leather seat, tracing the stitches with her finger, trying to soothe her weary mind. Her body wired, tingled with excitement and fear. A combination of repressed emotions no longer foreign to her in the presence of Red_. 'Where on God's green earth were they going? And what was this irresistible pull she felt towards Red?_'

Slowly, the car made its way into the deep, dark recess of the night as questions plagued her mind. Inquiries. Uncertainties. Further into the unknown.

All comments are welcome. Reviews mean the world to me as well as suggestions. Continue?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Not mine.

All the music can be found on my YouTube account (under CH2.)

All the graphics can be found on my Tumblr account (under fanfiction)

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

_**Previously **_

_Where on God's green earth were they going? And what was this irresistible pull she felt towards Red? _

_Slowly, the car made its way into the deep, dark recess of the night as questions plagued her mind. Inquiries. Uncertainties. Further into the unknown. _

**CH2. - The art of seduction. **

The car ride was amiable; soft melodious jazz music that drifted out of the speakers filled the car's comfortable silence. Liz continued to stare outside for a long duration of time, the moving city hypnotizing, soothing her into a dreamlike state. Comforting. Relaxed.

Human beings could be such incongruous creatures, rushing from one place to another, never having enough time to slow down, to stand still and observe the quiet beauty surrounding them.,.to take a moment, take a deep breath to appreciate life and all its wonders.

She used to be one of them. She had a life, hopes of a future; the white picket fence, the perfect husband, children. A home. A lie. Most people's lives were fabricated, interwoven with their own sense of reality. The beautiful lie. She wondered if she could ever be part of 'normal' society again. Blend in. Anonymous.

Her thoughts gradually began to drift, getting further away from the veracity of everyday life.

'_An upscale three-story beach house. Two children, engaged in a game of catch played in the front yard as carefree laughter filled the house with delight. Happiness. Sam. Her father was there too; dressed in white, running after them. A boy with dirty blond, curly hair dressed in a pepper red polo, light jeans, and white tennis shoes chased after a girl with similar longer hair in a raspberry red dress, squealing, bare feet, trying to escape from Sam to no avail. Liz observed the scene from her front porch, sitting still in a rocking chair as a wide smile spread across her face. A soft breeze whispered in her ear, her long hair a tangled mess. The delightful smell of seawater and homemade food filled her nostrils. Home. A large, warm hand placed upon her shoulder. Familiar and safe. She softly clutched the hand in hers. Curly, coarse, blond hairs tickled her right cheekbone as she rested her head on top. Her thumb drew lazy patterns in a circular motion over his knuckles. The sky was colored in beautiful rays of yellow, orange, and blue hues. The silver colored metal on her ring finger lit up, reflective in the morning sun. _

She used to have this dream quite often before everything went to shit.

_The face of the man remained unknown. Unseen. It was not Tom. The faux husband had drifted away, vaporized into thin air. Disappeared a long time ago. No more than a ghost of her past. No longer her concern. _

"_Lizzie, I love you." Mellifluously, words left his mouth, followed by a kiss on the crown of her head. Something Liz never thought to hear from a man's mouth again. Her smile reached her eyes. Laugh wrinkles more pronounced at the sides of her mouth and outer corners of her eyes. Crows feet. Years had gone by. Her story now written in the lines on her face, exposed for everyone to see. The warmth of the sun kissed her skin as she closed her eyes to savor this moment of total bliss. _

"_I love you too," she whispered back, her voice cracking as her eyes welled up with unshed tears. It sounded genuine. Soft, dry lips pressed upon her cheek as a lone tear escaped. Benevolence. Acceptance. Love. _

Would she ever have the ability to trust a man again…to open up her heart to the possibility of endless love?

"_Butterball, the only way to be truly happy with anyone is to love one another without any expectations. Someone who is willing be there for you, no matter what." _

She missed her father tremendously. If only Sam could see her now. Fractured, alone with a heaviness of the heartache that tormented her. Much stronger than ever yet confused and perturbed. Unraveling.

_The hand on her shoulder disappeared. The picturesque clear sky transformed into a nightmare of thunder, lightning, and whirls of harsh winds as angry dark clouds started to block the sun. Her light. No! Panic that rose within her core, bubbled up to the surface. My children. Sam. My husband. They were gone. Her house. Everything was gone. The front porch that once held life was barren.' _

Beep! Beep! The honking of a car woke her up. Her heart beat erratically. Restless. Her face stuck against the window, her neck twisted in an awkward position. Her mouth felt dry like sandpaper and her tongue stuck to the palate. Through half-lidded eyes, Liz peered outside. The busy NY traffic had slowed them down to an almost stand still.

She glanced back at her reflection just in time to see Red gawking intently at her shapely legs, his gaze traveled from her sturdy ankles up to her strong calves and smooth thighs. Lingering. Her predator. His prey. It was over in a blink of an eye as she squirmed in her seat, making him acutely aware of her consciousness.

He glanced down at his watch and requested Dembe to take a detour if they were going to make it on time for their reservation. This gave her a moment to adjust the hem of her skirt, which had risen to mid femur, and fixed her ruffled hair. Thank god her blouse was still firmly in place, her raven black lace bra peeked from underneath the opening, barely seen in the dimly lighted car. Flashes of passing traffic lights and cars waved over them. Dark. Light. Dark then light again.

"How long was I out?" Liz groggily asked as she rotated her head to look at him and rubbed the sore muscles at the back of her neck. Her heartbeat had slowly returned to its normal rhythm.

Red's lips curved up in a smile. "Roughly 20 minutes. Looked like you needed it. It was quite an adorable sight. Having trouble sleeping lately?" he questioned in hushed tones, his voice undemanding, eyes lit up in curiosity. One eyebrow lifted, and his hands rested firmly on his thighs.

"Where are we going?" Liz abrasively redirected as she dropped her hand to her lap. The mission. Noj Eisenkamp, a peculiar name for an American doctor.

Red's voice was louder this time, as he spoke in his usual brawl. "1OAK. You might have heard of this place?"

Liz nodded. "You mean the high-end club where elite socialites congregate and spend too much on liquor to remember anything the next day, apart from noticing their somewhat diminished bank accounts? That 1OAK?" Liz questioned sarcastically, annoyed. She may not have had a taste of their lifestyle, but she did not live under a rock.

Red smirked at her caustic behavior. Leave it up to Lizzie to be the buzz killer. Volatile. He tilted his head to the side. "Yes. It is also one of Eisenkamp's favorite retreats in the Big Apple." His eyes turned dark as one corner of his lips lifted for a mere second. "He is quite fond of female companionship. He might be present tonight."

She wondered about the sudden change of expression, but chose to ignore it. "Might? Are you telling me that the prodigious Raymond Reddington does not know for sure?" Liz queried in mock disbelief, rolling her eyes.

"Lizzie, as much as I appreciate your irresolute confidence in me, I am not an omniscient being. I have never met the man, and my source is not 100% reliable. He was a former patient who escaped from a psych ward. His mind is not very shrewd. However, with a few pins and needles, we were successful in extracting the information I needed," Red illuminated in a blithe tone, and then cracked a wry smile.

Liz dismissively waved her hand. "I don't even want to know how. Isn't that place booked for at least a few weeks? It is Friday," Liz's scoffed, brows knitted together, her eyes vigilant. She felt more rested than she was back at the Post Office.

"Surely you must know by now, Lizzie, that I have my ways. Backdoors have never been a issue for me," he replied, calm and brisk, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Liz crossed her legs as she looked back outside. Even in light of the conversation, Liz didn't feel good about this at all. She did not know why, but there was something he wasn't telling her. Red always kept his cards close to his chest. Her trepidation left her with an unsettled feeling. Guarded. Vexed.

Red studied her posture in the reflection of the glass. The wary emotions Lizzie was trying to hide spread over her face, as clear as words on paper. Maybe he had misjudged the situation.

"Relax, Lizzie, we will make our way through the front door this time. We'll have a quick chat with the doctor and have him back at the black site in a jiff. Trust me. I won't let anything happen to you," he mouthed, bullish, eying the back of her head.

Liz crossed her arms as her head snapped in his direction. She hated that he could read her so easily. Tom always said that she was a terrible liar. Takes one to know one.

"Trust you?! How can you ask me to trust you, when I don't even know why I am here or what you want from him? Because we both know you have your own agenda, Reddington," she exclaimed as anger prickled her senses again. She was nervous. On edge. Trusting him often got her in the direst situations, even though he always managed to safe her in the end.

'_What the hell am I getting myself into? Will he ever be able to tell me the whole truth? What does he want from me?' _

Queries. Uncertainties. It had become part of her daily ritual. She woke up with questions and tried to settle them down before going to bed. Would she ever find peace of mind again? The occasional calisthenics and sleeping pills only helped up to a certain point.

Red tried to mask his hurt at her indignant accusations, even though she was veracious. He had assumed that they were past this. Guess not. He had been the antagonist for the most appalling things that happened to her in the past. He had vowed to love and protect her, two things he was failing at miserably.

Red's expression blanked as he stared in front of him. "Doctor Noj Eisenkamp is a vicious being, barely a man. He plants a seed in the deepest layer of your subconscious mind, then lets it fester until he gets what he wants from you," he disparaged as his eyes turned ice cold, jaded in color. Impenetrable. His face was unreadable, schooled in the gloom light inside the car. The streaks of light gave him a ghost like appearance, heightened by his sudden sullen mood.

She willed herself not to feel guilty by her sudden outburst of raw emotions. They needed to focus on the task at hand. She wondered how this seed was planted, but was afraid to probe. She was backpedaling. Unsure.

As if Red could read her mind, he answered her unspoken question.

"I don't know how it works exactly, some sort of psychedelic drug combined with some kind of hypnotic methodology changes you. You literally become a different person. A slave. A killer. Open to every suggestion. He enjoys making other people suffer and you will have no memory of it subsequently." The last words were dragged out in malice. Lips turned down. Eyes glaring. An expression of disgust was noticeable on his face; similar to the one she had seen before. Red looked abrasive. Pissed. Venomous.

Her body shudders at the thought. It sounded like something out of a psychological thriller or science fiction_._

Liz let out a nervous breath. "Why?" she questioned cautiously.

Red squinted at her, his mask back in place. "Why what, Lizzie?"

"Why do you hate him so much? I have never seen you this distraught before."

Red was slightly taken aback. Surprised. Impressed. Sometimes he forgot that she was a profiler. She could read him as accurately as he could read her when his guard was down. Fascinating. Dangerous. A small smile graced his thinned lips before it disappeared.

With a mischievous glint in his eye he asked, "What do you know about the art of seduction?"

Liz looked up at him incredulously. Perplexed. '_Really? He was going to ask her this? Now, of all times? Where the hell is he going with this_…' She shrugged her shoulders. "Isn't that a book on how to pick up women?"

Red flashed a closed mouthed smile, his right cheek dimpled and the corners of his eyes creased. Jovial. He clasped his hands in front of his stomach with fingers intertwined, and turned his body sideways so that his right elbow rested at the back of his seat. He casually leaned back against the warm cushioned leather and draped his left leg over his right, positioned to be in near proximity, and tilted his head. She had his full attention. Their mixed scents created an intoxicated smell.

Liz had seen this posture many times before. There was a story behind this preposterous question. No doubt. Her arms loosened and dropped to her lap while she crossed her ankles. Slightly more relaxed now. Open. She would never tell him, but she loved to hear him talk nonsense, even when it was often with merit.

Red hollowed out the inside of his cheek with his tongue and ran his tongue along the side, taking a moment to sort his thoughts. His eyebrows knotted in concentration and his lips pursed before he spoke mellifluously.

"Yes, it is. Except it gives you a narrative on the different ways of seduction, seducers, and 'victims'. Whereby Maddie was an expert, Eisenkamp is not. Seduction in today's civilization is far more complex than it used to be."

Liz tried to mask her annoyance at the mention of Madeline Pratt. It was still a sore spot. If she would cross paths with that woman in the future, she'd make sure to give her a piece of her mind and more. Treacherous bitch.

Red, seemly unaware of what had transpired, continued on with his monologue, his face contorting in various unaltered expressions.

"Seduction is about power and manipulation as much as it is about romance. It is about how to make someone fall under your spell. Emotional feelings and sexual desire interleaved, altered by today's civilization. Changed by human behavioral ecology. At least in our culture, one can simply not exist without the other."

He shook his head lightly as he punctuated his words with his gradually moving hands and deft fingers.

"During the haeterist-aphroditic stage, sexual relations were unregulated, and the woman was basically at the mercy of the man. Promiscuity and sexual exploitation triumphed. That is, until women rebelled, revolting in a worldwide Amazonian stage. The catalyst for monogamy as we know it today. A grand power shift, whereby bigamy was criminalized and cheating frowned upon. Taboos we never voiced because of shame and embarrassment. Such base emotions…." His voice had dropped a few octaves during his speech. His eyes, half-lidded, bore directly into her soul. Jade greens, fixated and intense.

Thank god he couldn't actually read her mind. Professor Reddington Xavier. Had a nice ring to it. He would be shocked. Or maybe intrigued. She tried to swallow her inner voice and continued to stare at his face, everywhere except his gorgeous eyes. They seemed to change color with every passing of light. He may have noticed her dilated pupils, her flushed cheeks, and the veins that were about to burst out of the arteries along the sides of her throat. Her left hand worried her scar. A nervous habit she couldn't seem to break.

Damn that man and his voice. All she heard was sex this, sex that... The blood flow directly to her ears dampened the sound of his voice; still the vibrations tickled her ears, warmed her loins, and weakened her knees. Her seat got increasingly warmer with every minute that passed.

She tried to calm herself by thinking obtuse things. Her gaze drifted back to his eyes and cleared her throat.

"Red, as much as I appreciate your rendition on the history of human sexuality, is there a point to this?" she jested.

His facial expression grew comical at being stopped mid sentence…his hands in mid-air, eyebrows high on his forehead...His mouth opened and closed before pointing his index finger towards the roof of the car as if to make a point...to let him finish whatever he was trying to say for a moment more.

His posture had subsided as his voice toned down to quiet hushed tones that were barely perceptible over the mellow music. She stared, uninhibited, at his lips when he spoke again.

"What used to be so easily obtained became complicated. Barter for sexual relations. Dinner, drinks followed by a movie...walks on the beach, holding hands, and taking long baths. Sharing intimate thoughts, hopes, and dreams. Romance is more prominent and important nowadays than the act of procreation. Women in general want to be wooed. Noj has difficulty understanding the rules of seduction. Most men do. He handles rejection quite differently, though. He is still in the primeval stage. No more than a Homo Neanderthalensis. He takes what he can't have. Addicted to fornication and beautiful women.."

The same insidious tone returned to his voice when he spoke of the doctor, revealing his obvious distaste for the man.

The words didn't need to be verbalized. She understood them loud and clear. "So, if I understand you correctly, he basically is a nymphomaniac cave man?" Liz interjected, a slightly elated suggestion to cut this tension that settled over them. She loathed what humankind could do to each other, and his vile kind was one of the worst.

A lopsided smile adorned his face, his mood elevated. Back to his former self. He appreciated her oversimplified terms of engagement. He was in awe of her abilities to surprise him. She could destroy him with a single glance as well as lift his spirits with an unpretentious smile. It was a new experience for him, one he enjoyed tremendously.

"It is not the hyper sexuality part that I despise. It is one of the healthier addictions to have in this world," he purred seductively.

A bump in the road almost made her jump out of her skin. The jazz music was louder this time as Dembe turned up the volume. Liz almost forgot about the man driving them. He must have heard everything.

She hung on Red's every word. Mesmerized. Naomi was right about his power to make a woman feel like she was the center of his universe.

She wondered if Red was a romantic at heart. Probably not. "Do you believe in monogamy? Or are you fonder of the other stages..." she susurrated, the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Modesty be damned, she was curious. She knew about his past. His _appetite_.

His eyes locked with hers as his body turned to lean over her until their faces were mere inches apart. The tip of his shoe brushed against her shin as his fedora pressed into her hip, with her jacket and purse placed underneath. "Oh Lizzie, as much as I wish that we could go back in time to observe the wonders of a world long forgotten, I do not own a time machine."

He shrugged nonchalantly and grinned, his pace slow and deliberate.

"At least, as far as I know, there isn't one invented yet. Besides, I quite relish the art of seduction. I like the challenge...anticipating a woman's needs. It is the most exciting part. To be in a committed monogamous relationship is a choice between two or more individuals. Lots of couples invent their own rules. I despise the hypocrisy of today's civilization that the one is out there. Society likes to repress their sexual urges by abiding rules of engagement. We are all animals at heart, driven by the instinct to procreate and to survive. Chemistry and pheromones. A mutual attraction combined with an emotional connection. Evolution made relationships multifaceted and far more interesting, don't you think?" he asked flatly and gravelly, curious as to where her mind was. She seemed absent. Quid pro quo.

She regretted her impulsive actions. His voice was suave. Melodic. Rich. His tone reminded her of when they first met. '_Ohh I think you are very special.'_ The look he gave her made her uncomfortable at the time. Erotic. She still did not know why she was '_special'_ to him. He did not even answer her question completely, and she had a feeling that he would never give her a simple, straightforward answer. It was just not who Red was.

No... simple was not a word she would ever use to describe him. He was intricate. Ruthless. Enigmatic aplomb. Infuriating. Intelligent. Caring. Fun. Prodigious. Charming, and a lot more. He was a true gentleman at heart, and astonishingly human. A paradigm of paradoxes. A puzzle she would never solve. Ever changing and evolving. The profile she made more than a year ago became absolutely inaccurate. Yet, all she could think about was, _why me?_

"Why you? What, Lizzie?" Red asked.

A sudden heat spread though her veins and tingled her ears. Liz was stunned by her voice breathing out the question that had plagued her subconscious mind since the day they met.

Her face portrayed a deer caught in the headlights look, and the creamy complexion of her cheeks turned to a lovely color of dusty pink. _Fuck! Just breathe and think_. The wheels in her mind turned as she rubbed her scarred skin raw.

"Why take me with you?" Liz lied, fretting over his response. Even though she already knew. 10Ak had it's own rules and policies regarding women.

A hefty, sly smile spread across his face, dimples showing. "Because the only way to get in the club is if we bring a lovely lady with us," he clarified.

His shoulders shrugged. "Where is your sense of adventure, Lizzie? Smell the roses. Live a little. You might enjoy it," he suggested, waving his left index finger in her direction. Satirical.

Liz jutted her chin in his direction and crossed her arms. "Why not take Agent Navabi? If all you need is a pretty face by your side…?" she hissed out. _What was wrong with her? He just answered her own question._

Red leaned further back in his seat and held eye contact. "Because I always wanted to take the prettiest girl to the prom," Red responded sincerely after a moment, hoping that his answer would settle her mind. In truth, he would take Lizzie over Navabi any day. Samar was just a pawn on his chessboard...Lizzie was so much more. He was confident that she could handle herself in any situation.

Liz was momentarily dumbfounded and searched his deep forest green orbs for a glint of dishonesty. She had never been the belle of the ball. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She liked it. She felt beautiful. If she was honest with herself, it was because he voiced it.

They just continued to observe each other as various emotions transpired between them. The tension was almost unbearable. Cheeks tinged red. Heartbeats rose. Breathing elevated. Pupils dilated. A wave of intense pleasure and pain assaulted her heart. Pleasure of acknowledging the unspoken mutual attraction. Pain for never getting to taste the forbidden fruit and for wanting to do it in the first place. Desperately.

It was wrong. Messed up and frowned upon for numerous reasons. FBI. Criminal. Her father. Secrets. And yet, she couldn't deny what was between them. A strong connection. Electric chemistry.

She was sure that if they touched, they would explode. Vaporize. Spontaneous combustion.

All of a sudden, Red broke the silence. The spell was ruined, the music no longer heard by either. "Looks like we've arrived at the castle. You can leave your purse and jacket in the car. You won't need them. Ready, Lucile?" Before she could reply, Red had grabbed his stingy brim fedora and left the car. Liz took a deep breath and stepped out as well when Dembe opened her door. The fresh air felt pleasant against her heated skin. _Let's get this over with. Just breath in and breath out._

Her brain finally caught up with her body after a minute or two as a thought struck her. _Who the hell is Lucile…? _

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

**Everything can be found on my Tumblr acc under Fanfiction **

**Music: **

**Car:** Louis Armstrong instrumental

Soft Jazz Sexy Instrumental Relaxation Saxophone

**Liz:** Natalie Brown – Confused

**Liz/Red:** Emika – Wicked game

**Quotes from the books: Art of seduction & The gender of modernity **

Interesting reads you could also listen to AOS on YouTube. If you have 5 hours to spare. **Lizzie's type is The Siren and Red is The Charismatic and/or The Rake ;-) **

**I had to cut ch2/3 in half, as it was almost 9000 words. So this chapter was more about their frame of minds. Thought? Comments? I would love to read them…**


	3. Chapter 3 (part 1) i have a plan

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Nope still not mine. Waiting on the JB.

**Notes: **You guys rock! All the love and reviews made my week, Thank you! –– I love them...they keep me going.

Thank you to my awesome Beta **jadenanne7** who is an amazing writer herself. You should definitely check out her stories if you haven't already and a special thanks to **DK1993 **(Divine) and **Lizzingtoness **for helping me out.

I listen to music whenever I read FF – so I made a **mini playlist** that accommodates the scenes – It can be found on my **YouTube account** under **Ch3. Part 1.** The same goes for the **graphics** – those can be found on my **Tumblr account** under the Tab **FanFiction**.

If you ladies/gents like this – I will do it for every chapter.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

_**Previously **_

_All of a sudden, Red broke the silence. The spell was ruined, the music no longer heard by either. "Looks like we've arrived at the castle. You can leave your purse and jacket in the car. You won't need them. Ready, Lucile?" Before she could reply, Red had grabbed his stingy brim fedora and left the car. Liz took a deep breath and stepped out as well when Dembe opened her door. The fresh air felt pleasant against her heated skin. Let's get this over with. Just breath in and breath out. _

_Her brain finally caught up with her body after a minute or two as a thought struck her. Who the hell is Lucile…? _

**CH. 3 – Red is the color of Danger. (Part 1) **

Red stood right by her side as she stepped out and offered his left arm in a chivalrous gesture. She gladly accepted and tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow. Arms linked, they strode towards the obscene looking club with Dembe walking roughly a foot behind them.

A castle it was not. A four-story high, black, boxed structured building with a ten-foot tall tinted window at the front. The huge black 1OAK shield that adorned the double-doored entrance was illuminated by pepper red neon lights.

There was a long, burgundy red carpet rolled out towards the right side of the entryway, and a line of people on the other, barracked by a 60-foot long row of silver rope barriers.

Liz nudged Red in the side with her right elbow to get his attention as they strolled towards the ridiculously long line that awaited their admittance.

"Red, who is Lucile?" Liz muttered curiously and slightly annoyed as she leaned over. Once again she was in the dark. It was her own fault for getting sidetracked in the car.

Red didn't even glance at Liz when he answered briskly, "That is your alias for tonight Lizzie." He flashed her a ghost of a smile before it disappeared.

The trepidation returned, that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Liz let it go for now, he had made it clear by the tone of his voice that there was no point to solicit for more information. She did not want to cause a scene.

Red sidestepped the young adults, dressed in their glitter and glamour...short dresses and sharp suits. Some ladies sized Red up as they passed by on the shiny plush red carpet, lit by white spotlights.

Liz scowled at them._ 'Have they no shame?_ _ Most are young enough to be his daughter.'_ She straightened her back and tightened her grip on his forearm, where her fingers pressed in the cool feel of his soft linen suit, irreversibly pulling his triceps against the side of her breast. If he noticed, he didn't let on.

Moving towards what Liz presumed was the V.I.P. entrance; Liz pondered how he could have made reservations on such short notice. He probably knew someone. This was what Red did after all. He had a lot of 'friends' that aided him when in need.

They had lost their lead this morning when she was stuck in court. A highly trained crew had ambushed their FBI issued car on the way over to the Post Office. According to Agent Navabi, they were not dissimilar to the Pavlovich brothers.

Liz snorted at the memory when Cooper called to explain the situation at hand and rolled her eyes. Yeah right, she had never met the brothers and wouldn't be alive if she did. Navabi probably said that to cover her embarrassment. She had only been in the task force for a short while, not really the best time to lose face or the faith of your superiors. Or, more importantly, lose the confidence of Red. She was highly aware of the fact that Samar still worked for the Mossad as well as for Red. The FBI was just a means to an end for her.

Liz glanced sideways towards the man that had recruited the woman and haunted her dreams. Her piercing blues roamed over every inch of Red's appearance. He looked good, and he undoubtedly was cognizant of this. Judging by the envious looks most girls were throwing at her, they shared the sentiment.

Her feelings for this man were befuddling. She comprehended why she found him attractive, even at his age. He was quite handsome and alluring. Not just because of his distinguished facial features or snappy suits, but also mainly because of his bravado, his buoyancy, aptitude, wit, and his most attractive feature to her was his vulnerability...when Reddington the persona morphed into Raymond the man. His mask fallen. Irresistible.

She could live without the arrogance and his overprotective nature. Nonetheless, it was the whole package that enthralled her. The GQ look came second. Red filled out a well-tailored suit to a T, but she had no doubt he would look good in a paper bag.

Liz could not pinpoint when she stopped seeing him as a monster. A criminal. A killer. An asset. He was human. A broken man, formed by preceding events, and very dangerous. '_We become who we are._' What an odd pair they made. Hannibal and Clarice. Bonnie and Clyde. It was serendipitous. Fate.

She let her eyes drift up over his face, tracing the salt and pepper hair of his sideburns, studying the lines of his wrinkles, his dimples as the sides of his mouth turned up, rosy lips, straight nose, his soft, kind eyebrows, butterfly winged golden eyelashes and deep, ocean blue-green eyes that changed color depending on his mood or environment. His hat completed the depiction of the Concierge of Crime. She had grown quite fond of them. They served a purpose, and they were very becoming. Dapper. Her gentleman.

Liz flushed at her possessiveness. He was not hers, she had no claim on him and neither had he on her, yet, she couldn't help herself. She had admitted it to Samar, even though she had an alterative motive for doing so. Her thoughts and emotions were quite real.

When they stopped at the front of the line, Liz released his arm to give him some space to talk to the bouncer. He was exotic looking...clean-shaven with dark, piercing eyes, full lips, a slightly wide crooked nose, heavy eyebrows and short, dark, spiky hair. The man was well over 6 foot 3, muscular with a sharp, smoky black suit and tie that was a size too small. His hands clasped over each other in front of him and his legs parted, shoulders squared and feet planted firmly on the ground, his posture evoking intimidation and hostility.

He could have passed for Aram's younger brother if he was not build like a house. A squeaky, high-pitched voice irritated her eardrums as he requested their names, a tone that reminded her of Pee Wee Herman.

Liz was astounded and tried to hide her amusement as much as Red did. The corners of his lips trembled and his nose crinkled. Now was not the time to piss this man off. Dembe was the only adult in this equation who remained cool and quiet. His dark suit and bodyguard front would fit right in.

Red's voice was quite the opposite a low smooth vibration and very pleasant. "Good evening. I made a reservation under Ricardo, Lucile, and Steve Hudson" He responded calmly with a straight face.

The bodyguard pensively observed the anomalous looking trio before him, glancing at their ring fingers and back at Dembe, who did not blink or bat an eye as he stared the man down.

"He is our eldest," Red intervened with a sly smile, the muscle under his left eye twitched as his left arm wound around her waist, pulling her close to him, their hips touching. His dexterous fingers grazed her lower ribs and rested there.

She tried to hide her surprise at his proximity as his warmth radiated through her sheer, airy blouse and almost branded her side. Liz put on a brave face and flashed her most surreal, awkward smile ever at Red's outrageousness.

Dembe could have been his, just not hers. They were close in age...at least that is what she assumed. She knew little of his confidant; maybe it was time to change that after this whole ordeal.

To their relief, the bodyguard flashed a knowing smile, a row of small pearly whites visible, and nodded his head approvingly.

She could only imagine what was going through the young man's mind.

'_A pompous, older rich man and a younger, attractive woman accompanied by a bodyguard. One plus one equals three.'_

Liz felt offended and wrinkled her nose in disgust, her eyes cross, her jaw set, teeth clenched and her smile fake. She was no one's concubine, and had the compulsion to smack him upside the head; instead held her balled fist planted firmly at her thigh.

Red felt her body tense and brushed his sturdy fingers over her flank, trying to calm her down as the bouncer crossed their names off and opened the door, motioning for them to enter.

Red, ever the gentleman, let Liz go first as his hand shifted to the small of her back, lightly pushing her forward.

Liz shot a questionable, stern look back at Red. One eyebrow lifted and her lips set in a thin line, and as if they were telepathically linked she asked a silent question_. "Ricardo, Lucile & Steve Hudson? Really!" _ The same look she gave him before entering Wujing's elevator that went all the way down to middle earth.

Red responded with a shrug and a shifty smile, his eyes iridescently green. He ignored her abrasive nature and silently guided them through the dim hallway.

The nightclub's music was muffled by heavy black curtains that obstructed their view of what she assumed was the dance floor of the main area. Sadistic paintings of vamp-clothed women decorated the whole right side of the wall, an adaptation of women that were bound, gagged, and whipped by men. Soft purple incandescent light bulbs placed above the paintings illuminated their path.

Liz's brows scrunched together in confusion. This was not the 1OAK she had read about at all.

She did not have much time to contemplate or ask Red as they approached a very fetching doorman, dressed in a black uniform, white gloves, and oxfords. He opened the door and courtly bowed his head as he gestured with his right hand for them to pass through. "Gentlemen...Ma'am. Enjoy your evening."

She could make out the word 'dungeon' in small red letters above the entry before blaring music assaulted her ears. It sounded like a remixed cover of a song she had heard before. The drum of the song was on the brink of being painful and the beat pressed heavily on her chest.

She glanced back at Red, who appeared unaffected as he bobbed his head in time with the chorus.

_* Tainted love Tainted love, Now I know I've got to, Run away, I've got to Get away…._

Liz scanned the room as they stood with their backs towards the door, which closed as soon as they entered. The VIP area was larger than she had expected. Five bulky round tables were placed near each other, surrounded by 15 to 20 low powder white leather half-moon seats and separated by diaphanous string drapes, lit by candles, and rapidly moving strobe lights of white and purple reflective colors which led to a private light blue fluorescent round dance floor at the center of the room.

A half naked go-go dancer in silver body paint and metallic lingerie swirled around in a life-sized champagne glass provided entertainment. Picturesque. Spellbinding.

Snow white heavy curtains on the left side of the room blocked their view of the main dancehall, and apart from a few emergency exit doors, the VIP area was pretty much secluded from any outside influence.

An off-white sleek crescent shaped bar covered the whole back wall with a couple of sharply dressed male and female bartenders behind the counter. The ladies wore short, low cut, black-leathered heart shaped cocktail dresses and high heels as they made their way through the room, serving exotic looking cocktails and amber colored drinks, while, the gents were dressed in tight white dress shirts, bowties, black suit trousers, and polished dress shoes. Every one of them was as bit attractive as the next, as if they had been plucked out of a magazine and put to work for one night.

'_We certainly do not look that out of place,'_ she thought while observing the guests. Well, maybe she did. She stood out like a sore thumb and felt startlingly old.

Beautiful women in scanty clothing surrounded ostentatiously dressed, seasoned men with golden watches. Courting. One with money, promises and illusions, the other with youth, obedience and fake attributes. A perfect match. Most had pale marks on their fingers from marriages long forgotten…grasping for something they no longer had a hold on. Control. Power. Love. Slightly perspiring bodies brushed each other. The heavy smell of lavender and mistakes overwhelmingly present in the smoky air that the smog machines provided.

'_This surely is something else and definitely not my scene.' _She was glad she had not missed out on anything in her youth.

"Let's find the creep and be done with it," Liz mumbled to herself as she made her way around the crowd, towards the far end of the bar. They needed a quieter place to think and talk. To breathe.

A new song played through the speakers in the far corners of the room, yet she felt like they were placed right next to her ears. Screeching and unpleasant. The thumping of her heart beat in synchronicity with the rising beat of the music's climax.

_*I am addicted to you hooked on your love, like a powerful drug I can't get enough of…* _

Liz glanced back to see if Red and Dembe were still following her. No trace of their plus one, probably standing close yet far away. Blending in the background was Dembe's forte, no doubt taught by Red at some point in the past. '_Where is Red anyway?'_

She spotted Red's crisp white shirt that had lightened to an icy blue color under the fluorescent lights, ostensibly engrossed in a conversation with two blond women. They had their dirty hands all over his hat and all over him. One of them laughed at something he said, twirling her curly hair strands, trying to look innocent while obviously flirting.

Liz eyes began to blaze over, nose flared up, and heartbeat racing while her lips firmly pressed together as she marched her way over to him.

'_Prettiest girl…Ha!'_ She couldn't believe that she had bought his crap even though it sounded sincere in the moment._ 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.'_

Red turned around just as she stood a few inches next to him, arms crossed. Unsurprisingly livid. He felt her approaching before he even saw her. His spidey senses always on high alert when she was near.

A heat coursed through her veins as red spots began to appear at the sides of her neck. His eyebrows rose and his smile dropped from his face before flashing a wary one as a sort of apology for his impious conduct.

His hand had made its way to her left shoulder and ushered her forward towards the two young women in front of them. Barely in their twenties, with long blond wavy hair past their shoulders, low cut black and rosy silken red dresses that hugged them in all the right places, paired of with 6-inch Aurora Boreale Christian Louboutin Daffodile pumps, they were a vision all right...Sinful angels.

His right hand opened in a form of introduction. "Lucile, I would like you to meet Hallie and Annie James Parker. Identical twins. Can you believe it?" He chuckled, flashing his lopsided trademark unctuous smile and tilted his head.

Red was openly flirting with them in front of her. Hallie took the hat off of his head and frolicked with the brim. Annie quickly snatched it from her sister and placed it on top of her own head.

Liz rolled her eyes as Red glanced back at her red-rimmed eyes and the sisters. "Apparently they..." He never got time to finish his sentence as Liz grabbed his forearm roughly, took the fedora from the girl, and shoved it hard on the middle his chest, damaging the gutter dent as it bent inwards.

She dragged him towards the bar, deliberately ignoring his loud protests and then mumbled something about blending in, intelligence, and women. The only sound heard was the lurid music and blood rushing in her ears.

'_The audacity of this man...aren't I supposed to be his girlfriend or at least his mistress…?'_

She told herself that she was exasperated because they did not have the time for yakking, and that Red couldn't be serious about anything, not even spying on one of the most elusive blacklister yet. However, she couldn't disregard the twinge of jealousy she felt and quickly shook her head to get rid of the flashes of images that destroyed her chastity of mind and perpetrated her heart...Red in various compromising positions with those Ingénue girls.

They settled at the dark corners of the bar and the wall, a perfect spot to go unnoticed without looking suspicious. She released her vice grip on of his forearm, flexing her digits. '_Is everything a joke to him?'_

Red eyed her particularly as the rest of his expression remained unreadable...only a small right upturn of his lip gave him away. He rubbed his forearm to get the circulation and feeling back in his right hand as he ordered them some drinks.

'_Good. I hope I left a bruise. It would serve him right_.' She scoffed at him and pinned him with a glare that read _'Do not say a word or else...'_ turned around to settle between two high barstools, and casually leaned back with her elbows against the cool aluminum edge of the bar to observe their surroundings.

Her vigilant, stormy blues had turned to a dark night sky color as the lights flashed over them. They had a direct view of the VIP lounges where different men and women sat, their vision slightly obscured by the diaphanous string drapes.

Red leaned over in her personal space. "Lizzie," he whispered loudly in her ear, his lips almost brushing the outer shell as he tried to get her attention.

"You see that man over there?" His warm, damp breath vibrated and fanned her ear with every spoken word. It was extremely distracting, and her body involuntarily reacted to the proximity of his lips.

Liz tried to withhold the tremble that ran down her spine and hoped that he didn't notice his effect on her as she followed his gaze towards a fair complexioned man, who sat quietly and alone at the second table in front of them.

He was a lanky, semi-attractive guy in his forties of average height, no more than 5'11 with over-gelled bleached hair, sharply parted to the left, with high cheekbones, quirky well fitted harry potter thin-wired glasses perched high on his small sharp nose, a squared jaw, and a pristine, wrinkle free oval shaped face. He looked unnatural, almost cosmetically perfect.

He wore an opened, milky white tailored double-breasted linen suit and dress shirt with a broad faded rose tie, paired with an equally pink pocket square and socks. His bone white shiny patent dress shoes gleamed in the semi-darkness of the room every time a fluorescent light spot ghosted over them. He looked like one of those menacing 1950's mob villains straight out of a B movie.

With a malevolent glare out of his cold, almost black eyes, set under thin almost translucent eyebrows, he surveyed the scenery around him. He crossed his legs, brought his thick cigar to his thinned lips and took a long drag of his cigar before releasing them in perfect 'O' shaped rings of smoke. He had an eerie calm air to his persona.

If Liz could describe him, it would be ominous and creepy. Not someone she would want to deal with.

"Is that the doc?" she asked in shushed tones close to Red's ear, so only he could hear. The scent of his musky cologne mixed with her Chanel perfume gave her a flashback to the previous tension in the car, heightened her senses and made her aware of every nerve ending, even of the gush of air his jacket generated as he shifted closer. It was surprisingly cool in the nightclub.

Red turned his head, lips forming a lazy kiss with roughly three inches of space between their faces and leaned on his left hand that was placed on the seat beside her. His fingers spread widely and almost touched her left hip.

"Yes, I believe so. He introduced himself as Doctor Copperfield. How perfectly on the nose. According to the twins, he had already propositioned them. They refused. Called him a sleaze ball that smelled like mothballs," he responded gravely, smiling and glanced back at the twins as he tipped his fedora before he took it off and placed it on the counter.

Liz took notice of their interaction. Something seemed off. Her brows furrowed and her lips pursed as she tilted her head towards Red to observe the two young women. The twins had no interest in any man, blowing off every one that came their way.

"They work for you...?" Liz huffed out in relief and annoyance, her eyebrows set in a straight line, suddenly feeling very injudicious.

"Yes," was his short reply as their drinks were placed in front of them. He could have told her more, but after the stunt she pulled in front of the twins, he just didn't feel like making a bigger deal out of it. They had some history and he didn't want to poke the bear more than necessary. Liz was already on edge ever since they left Harold's office.

Red handed her a bright yellow cocktail with a sugared rim and orange wedge perched on top. " A Don.Q Screamer. Reminded me of you." His voice was coy and his eyes glinted.

She glared at him and snatched the glass from his hand, accidently brushing her fingers over his. A surge of electricity flowed through her extremities. Static discharge.

Red clutched his glass and sipped his scotch to hide his wry smile; purposefully ignoring her death glares and faintly flushed cheeks. '_This is going to be a gas,' _he thought as he scanned the room.

Liz followed suit. Her mixture tasted sour, sweet, and somewhat spicy. The ice-cold liquor tingled her tongue and tickled the back of her palate before the liquid made his way down her throat, warming her from the inside out. It was delicious. An orgasmic experience for her taste buds. Titillating. Liz nearly moaned as she closed her eyes and rolled the back of her neck. God knows she needed this tonight.

She reopened her eyes and saw a heavy short man no more than 5' ft. tall with a crooked hawks nose, deep sunken small black eyes, nearly invisible lips and long dark greasy balding hair approach the doctor out of the corner of her left eye. He resembled the penguin from Tim burton's Batman movie. Even dressed similar minus the top hat. He looked oddly familiar. She wracked her brain as to where she could have seen him before, when an unpleasant tremor crawled down her spine, followed by an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes widened, her mouth somewhat agape and eyebrows idle.

Red was also observing the doctor and what seemed to be his associate, whom appeared to peek in their direction while he spoke to Eisenkamp. Red glanced back to say something to Liz, when he saw her face was ashen.

"Lizzie, are you alright?" he called out worriedly as she remained unresponsive.

He placed his glass on the bar, straightened and turned his body to stand in front of her as he touched her right shoulder. Her empty eyes settled on his before the color returned. She grasped the back of his neck and drew him closer until her mouth was near his left ear.

Her perfume, flowery shampoo, and cocktailed miscellaneous scents filled his nostrils. Heavenly. He involuntarily closed his eyes for a mere second to enjoy this moment before opening them again. '_Focus.'_

"Red, I think that guy was at the crime scene yesterday," she whispered harshly, her breath warm as her lips almost touched his auricle. His body evoked the same involuntary pilomotor reflex to her as she had to him.

Red bent his face so that his own lips were lined with hers and softly ghosted his hands up and down her chilled upper arms. "You sure? If you feel uncomfortable, Lizzie, Dembe could get you back to the car …" he calmly suggested, his eyes soft and warm as they settled on her frightened ones.

Liz lightly shook her head as an uncomfortable tightlipped smile graced her face, betraying her trepidation "No. I mean, I might be wrong…besides, I look somewhat different right?" she questioned, voiced in a higher pitch than usual. She didn't know whom she was trying to reassure, her own mind or Red's, who eyed her disbelievingly, one eyebrow perched high on his forehead.

He tilted his head to examine her further, the cogs in his mind turning, and squeezed her shoulders before dropping them to settle on the outside of her thighs, placed firmly on the white leather cushioned barstools, effectively boxing her in...Challenging her in a silent duel.

Liz broke the intense eye contact and quickly snuck a glance over Red's right shoulder towards Eisenkamp's table. He was alone again; his friend had disappeared and did not seem to have noticed them at all. She let out a nervous breath.

The doctor's raven black eyes bore holes into the backs of the twins, who danced provocatively to a mixed version of Dirty Diana.

Her nose wrinkled in mild repulsion, which Red had caught before he followed her gaze over his shoulder and smirked. It was a sight all right, two women grinding on each other's bodies. Arousing for most men, just not for him. Not anymore.

He preferred one. The woman standing right in front of him, to be exact. His eyes snapped back to her and roamed her face, uninhibited, from her clavicles all the way down to the edge of her lace bra and back up again. There was something adorably sexy about the way she used his body as a shield even though she could take care of herself. He would gladly protect her from the world. Eradicate all evil. Including himself, if necessary.

He was brought out of his trance when Lizzie pressed her short nails into his forearms and tugged at his sleeves. "Red! He is looking our way again." She spoke louder this time. Her harsh tone screeched his ears as he looked back over his shoulder and saw the Danny DeVito look-a-like squint his eyes in their direction, a tall, blond go-go dancer in white lacquered fabric lingerie on his arm as he made his way back to the doctor's table.

Red searched for Dembe, who stood at the entrance of the hallway leading to the exit, but couldn't signal him through the crowd. He whipped his head back to Liz and took her face tenderly between his warm, dry palms, his thumbs brushing over the soft planes of her cheekbones.

"Maybe you should leave," he suggested poignantly with a penetrating gaze that nearly bore a hole in her soul. He didn't want to endanger her. The doctor was not someone he wanted near Lizzie, if he figured out who she was. '_What was I thinking, bringing her to a place like this?"_

Liz shook her head and scanned the whole room for possible exits; there were none, only the way they came in. It would look stranger if she up and left via the emergency exit. She took hold of Red's wrists and pulled them away from her face. Her hands wandered towards his hands and held them in front of her in a firm grip. The curly, coarse hairs of the back of his hand tickled against her thumb pads as she brushed over them.

"No, Red! If I am wrong, I won't…I won't be able to forgive myself," she said, more determined than she felt. '_I can do this.' _

His green orbs worriedly scanned her face as she took a deep breath. "I am okay, I promise." Her lip corners were tight and turned up. She released his hands and rubbed her scar in a nervous gesture. Anticipation. Apprehension.

He did not believe a word she had just said. He squared his shoulders and remained quiet, his face ploy and stoic.

Her eyes turned cold and her face set in a scowl as she regarded him. "This could be the only chance we get to arrest this scumbag. I am not letting him get away." Her tone was resolute. Bullish. There was no way he could talk her out of this.

Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his cheek, his 5-hour stubble scratched her lips as she moved them up. "Listen, I have plan," she whispered in his ear and leaned back so there was some space between them.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

My apologies for the 2 Parts – I really thought about it and based on some good advice decided to cut it again – the next chapter will be shorter I promise and will posted a.s.a.p.

Please leave comments – It's highly appreciated…

**I know it was Lizzie pov heavy – Red will get his turn.**

**Music: Hestia Prytaneum YouTube account under CH 3. part 1**

**Graphics: Hestia Prytaneum Tumblr under Fanfiction or fb.**

Part 1 

**Music Club:**

White Cell - Tainted Love (House Mix)

Avicii - Addicted To You

Michael Jackson - Dirty Diana (DJ Pantelis Private Mix)

**Twins:** Keri Hilson-Pretty Girl Rock

**End scene:** [Project X Movie Music] Heads Will Roll (A-Trak Remix)

**The 1OAK (1 Of A Kind) Club in NY** is real, just took creative license to change it to fit the story

**Ricardo & Lucile:** was for my friends over at the FB group ;-) If you don't know of them – no worries I will explain them in a later chapter.

**Steve:** is a nod to the awesome cracklist (part3) videos of MissSavy.

**Hallie and Annie James Parker: **The Parent Trap (1998)

All the fun tidbits and hints will be posted at the very end of the story – It will all lead up to…around 18 chapters by the looks of it.


	4. Chapter 3 (part 2) blinded by passion

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Nope I tried, but my check bounced again I need Aram to hack his files stat!

**Notes: **Thank you for all the reviews/follows/fave's etc. You guys have no idea how much they mean to me

Thank you x100 to my Beta j**adenanne7**, you know I wouldn't be able to post anything without you. The lovely **silhouettedredoblivion **who just wrote the start of her first amazing TBL fanfic: **The Silver Lining **and all my friends over at FB/Twitter, this is for you guys.

**Mini playlist** can be found on my **YouTube account** under **Ch3. Part 2.** **Graphics** on my **Tumblr account** under the Tab **Fanfiction**.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

_**Previously **_

_Her eyes turned cold and her face set in a scowl as she regarded him. "This could be the only chance we get to arrest this scumbag. I am not letting him get away." Her tone was resolute. Bullish. There was no way he could talk her out of this. _

_Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his cheek, his 5-hour stubble scratched her lips as she moved them up. "Listen, I have plan," she whispered in his ear and leaned back so there was some space between them. _

**CH. 3 – Red is the Color of Danger. ( Part 2 ) **

Liz had considered this possibility. They looked out of place. There were couples conversing with each other, osculating or being entertained by the hostesses and dancers. She and Red were the only 'incongruous' pair. No wonder the squirmy guy looked at them apprehensively with his beady eyes. They did not appear as two people that were enjoying themselves at all. A young woman and an older, sophisticated gentleman standing by the bar, observing others, would make her suspicious too if she were a criminal.

She had an idea. It was not meticulously thought out, nor did she have any inkling about his reaction and that's what scared her the most. The repercussions. Truth to be told, what she was about to do was a criminal offense. Right at that moment, she felt a little bit weary and perceived it as their only option, however asinine. This could either turn out to be very good or very bad.

Red eyed her incomprehensibly as she waved a hand in front of them, grabbed her drink, and downed it all at once. The liquor was ice-cold, strong and warmed her insides in an instant as she tried, but failed, to settle her nerves. The only result was a mild case of a brain freeze and lightheadedness. She was tempted to drink his too, but decided against it. That was one expensive drink, and that gesture would certainly not be appreciated.

Red observed her every move as she slammed her drink back on the bar with a muffled thud. Liz just enjoyed Red's confounded expression. She could practically hear the cogs turning in his warped mind. His stare was pensive and his posture slightly tense. For the first time in a long time after the whole Tom/Berlin debacle, Liz felt in control. She had made up her mind and Red had no clue whatsoever.

"Red, whatever happens tonight, swear to me that this will not be spoken of. Ever! Or we will have a repeat of the first time we held a pen together," Liz exclaimed in an attempted stern manner, albeit unsuccessfully. Plaintive. Tenuous. Her eyes were set and her voice was determined, but her threats sounded hollow as she poked her cold right index finger in his vested chest before flattening her hand over the steady beat of his heart while placing the other on his right shoulder. With her heels on they were practically the same height.

Red's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, his mouth somewhat agape, but remained motionless as her tendons traveled up, skating over his supple warm neck to the short hairs at the base of his scalp, her digits spreading apart.

Liz reeled from the sensation of his hair waving through her fingers. It felt like dense, exquisitely soft, short cut Vicuña wool.

Red all but purred at the touch and maintained eyeing her peculiarly. His eyes were fixated on hers and his chin protruded. He was contemplating the possible outcomes of this transference. He felt like a fish out of water. He didn't mind surprises; in fact he welcomed them, just not in a situation like theirs. His mind was racing through all sorts of different scenarios. '_What in god's name is Lizzie going to instigate? Perhaps I should get Dembe to get her out of this place…it isn't safe… No, she will devise a cunning proposal. She is facetious, just trust her.'_

'_Now or never.'_ Liz suddenly drew his face within inches of hers in the blink of an eye. Red's face contorted into a shocked expression at the proximity, and his eyebrows shot up to the beginning of his receding hairline. His eyes blinked at a rapid speed for a moment and could barely utter, "Lizzie, wait...wait. What are you…" before his voice died in the back of his throat as soft, full lips planted on his. The air whooshed out of his lungs. His eyes opened wide in astonishment, his arms still limp at his sides. Diffident. Stunned. Red's entire body tightened from his throat, chest, and down to his toes. His mind caught up after a second or two and his body automatically reacted.

He abruptly seized her shoulders and pushed her away, almost squeezing them in a death grip as their lips parted with a soft smacking sound. A gush of air rushed back in as he tried to breathe. His eyes bore into her darkened orbs, searching for answers, looking for any indication of disinclination. A million thoughts catapulted through his mind. This was either the best plan ever, or the most imprudent one to date. Of all the impending developments that came to mind, this was not among them. He was taken aback by her sudden lewd behavior.

Goosebumps tingled Liz's skin and her cheeks flared up. The way Red's rosy, dry lips felt against hers, even for no more than a second was enough to fog her mind. Her hands remained stagnated on him as if they were glued and she couldn't move them. Frozen. Afraid that if she let go, it would mean the end of them...the end of what they had, whatever that was. She wasn't ready for that. She would never be ready for that. His eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to see through her. She stared back, fascinated by the stark, elegant planes and angles of his face before shifting her gaze to his sophisticated Italian shoes and slumped her shoulders as her mind started to reel, her former surge of empowerment debauched.

'_He sees me as a daughter. It was all in my head. Maybe he was just playing games. This was such a bad idea to begin with. Oh my god what now..?' _Her brain began to gyrate and she felt nauseated.She couldn't bear the rejection, even under these circumstances. Her eyes began to mist over. _'No, I will not cry over this.' _

Red was unsure on how to proceed. He didn't know if it was the booze or Lizzie's kiss…he felt rather inebriated. Her heady Chanel infused smell, her pillowy, plump full lips, the brief taste of the sugary cocktail mixed with his scotch...had drugged his mind and scattered his thoughts.

He slackened his grip on her shoulders, ghosted his flexible fingers across her cheek, and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear. He traced the outer shell with the tips of his right finger pads before lacing them through the silky feel of her rosy scented hair. _'She is so beautiful' _

Liz's head snapped up to his, her eyes large. Puzzled. Tentative. His face came closer, her vision blurred and lips parted as his were merely a hair's breadth away. Breaths mingled. Eyes instinctively closed and slick noses touched. Instant heat. Her right hand on his vested chest sensed the deep pulsation of his heartbeat beneath his suit jacket. The other lowered and clutched the back of his neck, sweltering to the touch. '_Is this really happening?_ '

Time slowed down as an overpowering magnetic force pulled their mouths together. Connected. Uninhibited. Motionless. Her upper lip between his, his lower lip between hers. Warm and velvety. Red was in control as he slowly slid his lips over hers, spreading moisture over them. She belonged here; they fit together like a hand in a glove. Perfect. Electric. Heartbeats raced and breaths quickened as he bit back a possessive growl.

A warning bell went of in the back of Liz's mind, reminding her that it was not real…none of it was real. They were doing this for the sake of the mission and nothing more. An involuntarily moan that had escaped her throat spurred him on as he continued the sweet torture of his mouth on hers, alternating between pecks and firm pressure.

Red was highly adept in the art of seduction. That was evident in the way her legs began to quiver as she tried to shut them and suppress the little butterflies swirling in the pit of her stomach.

It was too much. He was too much. The way the bristly hairs on his chin and above his upper lip scratched over her face as he changed angles and tilted his head to get them impossibly closer. The way his hand moved through her hair, massaging the base of her scalp, while the other skimmed her right hip. Red-hot. All her nerve endings were on high alert. Aware of every touch and whimper, of his potent smell and taste. Aware, that he was kissing her senseless.

She was certain that she would have a mild case of beard burn, but that was a problem for later. Right now, Liz felt overwhelmed. Baffled. Terrified. Exhilarated. Indescribable. Her rational mind began to shut down as her last thoughts began to fade away_. 'Cool it…he is just an asset, Nr4 on the most wanted list, Concierge of Crime…he is…he is hmmm.'_ He was a man and an exceptionally good kisser. Albeit a little reserved. Reverent.

That might have been so, until his hands began a journey of their own. Voracious. His right tugged lightly at her silky locks, before he grabbed a fistful of hair at her neck and tilted her head back. A tiny whimper escaped her throat, which Red vigorously kissed away to ease the pain. His left worked its own magic as his strong fingers glided over her waist and rested on the space right above her tailbone with an open palm, kneading the supple flesh through the thin fabric of her red blouse and pulled her flush against him, molding her body with his, trapping her right hand in between their chests. Once again, Liz was trapped in a cocoon of Red. Her nostrils filled with his faint smoky scent...faded musky cologne and tangy aftershave. Intoxicating. He was everywhere.

Liz nibbled on his lower lip before coaxing it open with the tip of her wet tongue. She took advantage of his gasp as his lips parted with a husky rasp. _"Lizzieee, slo…"_ the words rolled of his tongue and vibrated against her lips as she gently sucked the supple muscle into her mouth before Red could finish his sentence. Taste buds touched for the first time. The Don Q. Screamer cocktail and Royal Salute scotch mixed as instinct took over. A rush of fervor surged through her veins.

His very adept tongue explored the depths of her mouth, tracing over her smooth teeth before teasing her own. Liz complied and accommodated him, massaging her tongue with his. Slow and sensual. A cocktail of hormones and dopamine released. Intense gratification. Eyes remained tightly closed in an overbearing sense of pleasure. If this was a dream, neither wanted to wake up.

All inhibitions went out the window as Liz began to forget where they were and why they were there. Music faded to the background as she surrendered to her feelings. Her right hand glided over his soft linen vest, his collar, and over the coarse hairs of his unshaven jaw as she cupped his cheek. The sensation was quite stimulating. Liz dug her fingers into his neck and kissed him forcefully, to the point of bruising his lips, as desires of the flesh won over the spirit of the mind. The kiss became urgent, fervent, and delicious. He met her stroke for stroke. Tongues dueled. Deep, wet, hot, and slick. Teeth clashed and noses bumped. Perspiration started to form on their foreheads and upper lips. It was almost unbearably scorching hot. Out of control. A despicable rush. Lascivious.

The room was spinning. Blood pulsed erratically. Groans were shared...moans and whimpers heard. Hitches of breaths through mouths and noses filled their lungs as stomachs extended and contracted. Heartbeats erratic. Deft, sturdy extremities pulled harder at her tendrils as slender fingers skated over his soft hair and short nails scratched his scalp, emboldened by his touch as they began to intensify. They hissed, sighed and shivered. Shared pleasure and pain. A hefty amount of endorphins assaulted their brains and bodies as the kiss went on and on. The taste of their drinks faded along the way. Liz got to taste the forbidden fruit after all...a sweet and salty nectar that she could never get enough of.

Their lungs began to prickle as hard, short breaths interwove and grasped for some well-needed oxygen. She didn't know anymore where he ended and she began. They didn't combust like she thought they would, no, they simply melted together. Two became one. His breath became hers. His exhale, her inhale. Titillating. A natural high. Magical. She had never been kissed quite like this before…with such bravado and passion, yet controlled and loving.

Push. Pull. Chest against chest. Buttons against buttons. Red's silky tie felt incredibly soft as it moved over Liz's breastbone. Her bosom tingled from the sensation. His right leg moved between hers as she clamped down, essentially trapping him in. Her skirt had ridden up to a promiscuous height as his thigh and knee pushed forward. The linen fabric of his pants felt both soft and rough as it swiftly brushed against the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

A spiral of pleasure began to coil in the pit of her stomach as a pool of liquid heat formed and invaded her lower regions. Stimulated. Aroused. Her body pressed hard against his as he pushed her back against the cold bar and continued to kiss as if she was the sweetest dessert he had ever tasted. '_Even better than Paczki'._ Her lips throbbed from the sheer force of the condemning kiss as tongues continued to wrestle for domination. His arm, which remained tightly around her waist, was the only thing that kept her up as her unsteady legs nearly gave out. His hand traveled dangerously low to the beginning of her tailbone, over her skirt, tracing her zipper with his pinky as her left hand moved over to join the other and held his face between her palms, her fingers tracing his sideburns and ears as she alternated angles to kiss him deeper, faster and harder. Liz sunk her teeth on his lower lip in the throws of passion, and was surprised by the coppery taste of blood that assaulted her taste buds.

This brought everything to an abrupt halt as Red stilled and released her lips with a moist muffled smacking sound, followed by short raspy breaths fanning their faces and throbbing, bruised lips. Both tried to calm down while their perspiring foreheads rested against each other. Music was gradually heard again. Heart rates began to drift back to a normal, steadier beat. Eyes opened, wavering and blurred. Hands remained in place, albeit slackened as foreheads parted.

Reality came rushing back as a flush ran over her whole physique and colored her cheeks, marking her sudden embarrassment. Thank god for the darkness of the club '_What the hell was that?'_ Liz thought as she let her arms drop to her sides as if burned, and stared at the slightly crooked knot of his shiny silk lilac tie, tracing the Paisley pattern. Resisting the urge to fix it. Her swollen pulsating lips, and the fact that she could smell him on her, was the only evidence left that their kiss actually happened. There was no turning back from this. _'He kissed me back...'_

A small smile flashed across her face before it was replaced by a grimace as an outrageous thought entered her mind and she thanked her lucky stars that his wasn't the seed that gave her life. Otherwise, this would be an all new kind of twisted...even for her.

Her walls were up again as he took a step backwards, his somewhat clammy palms glided over her flawless skin to her forearms before releasing them.

A foot between them felt like an ocean apart, his body heat radiating like waves of sunlight caressing her rapidly cooling skin from the air-conditioning above them. She fretted his reaction.

After a few seconds, she dared to glance up at his face, just to see his focus elsewhere. She followed his narrowed stare over to the second table and noticed that the short guy was gone, as well as the dancer he was with. Red had just shielded her with his body...kept her from sight and nothing more. Liz let out a deep, wary breath she did not realize she was holding, causing him to swiftly turn back to her.

They locked eyes. Green eyes glazed over with lust and other unreadable emotions before one of delight replaced them. Vigilant. An upturn of his lip corners formed into a sly, cocky little victory smile. Ingratiating.

He looked pleased, as if he had just won the lottery. Liz tried to sort out her fragmented thoughts, while her annoyance came back full force. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing, judging by the smug look that was plastered on his face.

Liz did not back down from his scrutiny and sassily grinned back at him, her chin jutted forward as her hands made their way to her hips. _'Yes, two can play this game. By the way, Red is a lovely color on you.' _ She had left the traces of her lipstick on and around his mouth. Marked him as hers. Red on Red.

Red reached past her for his drink, downing a hefty amount before placing it back on the bar, his left arm brushing hers in the process, and wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He resisted the urge to wink at her and instead, flashed her one mouth-watering smile, '_Nice try, Lizzie, but this is not my first rodeo.'_

His warm breath, heavy with scotch, fanned her face as he leaned forward and sultry whispered, "Well done, Lizzie. Very convincing. I believe he has departed the premises with his latest conquest." His lips touched her earlobe; the feeling of a thousand ants crawled over her head and down her spine as her eyes involuntary closed. His deep, raspy, husky voice cut through her like a warm breeze on a cold winter night. '_Is this what he sounds like in the morning?'_

Liz's eyes sprung open and she mentally shook the salacious thought away as a surge of fury coursed through her veins. Blood nearly reached a boiling point. Her heart thumped hard against her breastbone.

'_Is this how it's going to be from now on? Alternating between wanting to kiss him or strike him? Probably both? Damn him and his wanton behavior.'_

Her brows pinched together and her lips formed a thin hard line as she desperately fancied pushing him away. She did not even know why or whom she was aggravated at; herself for letting it get out of control and flummoxed? Or him for being in control and unfastened by the kiss, merely playing his part?

Right now was not the time to let her emotions get the best of her. No, not this time...they had a job to do. The faster they got it over with, the sooner she could get out of this hellhole and back to the prison of her own fickle heart.

"Well good for him. Now let's get this over with," Liz spat out as she straightened her back. Her voice had a slight edge to it and her eyes narrowed, zoned in on the task at hand. _Agent Keen._

Red bobbed his head sideways and flashed her a tight-lipped half smile. "Let's see if the doctor is up for a friendly conversation then. Follow my lead." He stepped aside and made a chivalrous hand gesture for her to go first, which she refused with a rude hand gesture of her own. He shrugged, closed his eyes for a second, and shook his head briefly as he pursed his lips. '_Women...not even a million books could help me figure this one out_. _Lizzie is very…tenacious.'_

He subconsciously licked his swollen lips and tasted traces of his blood. She broke skin. Erogenous. A reminder of what they could become if they coupled. Dangerous. Exhilarating. The memory of their kiss was still fresh on his mind. His heart rate slightly elevated. he found himself fighting the incredible urge to rake his fingers through his short cropped hair and let out a big heavy sigh. He couldn't think straight. His body was still buzzing. Her smell had imprinted on his clothes. The kiss was permanently etched on his frontal lobe.

He would never tell her this, but that kiss was…indescribable and it still affected him, even though it didn't show. He could never do it again...no matter how badly he wanted to, over and over again until the morning light hit their worn out faces. He was in total disarray as he tried to concentrate on what to converse about with Eisenkamp.

Red strode roughly a foot in front of Liz and was only an arm's length away from the doctor's table when a loud Bang! Bang! rang out through the confidence of the enclosed space. Echoing. He was just about to turn towards Lizzie when utter mayhem occurred. People screamed. The music had unexpectedly turned louder and his hands flew up to his ears to try to block the painfully obnoxious sound. The crowd spiraled out of control, running like bulls in a china shop, knocking him and each other over as more than a hundred people made their way through the different emergency exits.

Red had lost sight of the doc as he disappeared in the masses. He abruptly spun back to see if Lizzie was still behind him, when something solid hit him and shattered on the back of his head. He slumped to one knee and braced himself on his hands as two strong arms came out of nowhere, grasping him from behind. He struggled to fight them off. His head pounded, as if a hammer had hit him.

"Raymond, we have to go now!" Dembe screamed as loud as he could to no avail. Red seemed dazed and slightly impassive. He brushed his fingertips across the back of his head and quickly pulled them back when he felt something sticky and warm ran through his fingers. His digits were coated with blood. A thin stream of blood trickled down his neck, to the front of his throat, staining his once impeccable white collar. Adrenaline surged through his body, prohibiting him from feeling anything. Not a sting. Nothing_. 'Lizzie…'_

Red swallowed a heavy, dry lump. His eyes frantically scanned the room. It began to rotate as people passed by in slow motion. Screams of terror muffled by the heavy ringing in his ears. His chest tightened, constricting his breathing.

He shrugged Dembe off him, who was still trying to pull him up by his armpits and stood sluggishly by himself. Trembling. Dizzy.

Red suddenly snapped and grabbed Dembe by the lapels of his suit jacket with all the strength he could muster. "No! Find Agent Keen, Dembe, NOW!" He tried to scream, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Red glared at Dembe. He was fuming.

Dembe had never seen Raymond this hysterical; a look of panic crossed his face. The bodyguard gave him a curt nod and set off towards the entrance.

Red's stomach turned as he explored the area. His hands slumped and rested on his knees as he tried to clear his mind, inhaling and exhaling big gulps of air. '_Wake up. Lizzie is here somewhere. Or maybe she got away. Please be okay…'_

Liz was nowhere to be seen. He straightened his back and eyed every corner around him, until he saw his fedora still perched on the edge of the bar and what he identified as her legs being dragged over the floor behind it. His eyes widened to the size of saucers, a crease appeared on his forehead as his eyebrows shot up and instinct took over.

He reached to grab the Smith & Wesson 36. strapped behind his back when something heavy and blunt swiftly hit him hard on the middle of his backbone, once, twice followed by a gnarly cracking sound until he dropped onto both knees. A third blow across his shoulder blades made him plummet flat onto his stomach, hands spread out in front of him as his revolver spun away until it came to an abrupt halt, not two feet away from him. His body quivered with effort as he tried to reach for it, but his arms felt like jelly. Weak.

The hefty heel of someone's sticky shoe pressed on his spine between his shoulders held him down. A natural force of gravity and weight displacement. The adrenaline rush had quickly dissipated. A silk cloth slithered across his face before he felt a sharp sting at the side his neck.

The room slowly turned upside down. His eyelids began to droop as pepper red blood drops blurred his vision. He couldn't move his fingers. His legs were unresponsive. His body was numb. Immobilized. Powerless.

The right side of face pressed against the cold dirty dance floor. The luminous blue beams hypnotizing. His breathing labored as he tried to breath deeply through his nose. His lungs burned. Wheezing. He could barely feel the floor vibrating from the unbearable beat of the ongoing music.

The overpowering odor of lavender, paradichlorobenzene, and expensive cigars filled his nostrils before his eyes gradually blinked to a tunnel vision. Her limp body had disappeared and her shoes were no longer visible. Out of sight. All he saw was red. All there was was blood.

Red slowly batted his eyelids until he couldn't blink anymore. His whole world turned dark. He really wished this was some horrible nightmare and that he would wake up soon before his last thought struck him_. "Lizzie…I am so sorry…."_ The music drifted away. An uncomfortable and eerie stillness. Lights out. Pitch black.

_*...What was the price on his head?...I think I heard shot!... I think I heard shot!...Pinpoint potential troublemakers and neutralize them, neutralize them, neutralize them…Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!..._

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

I hope you guys are satisfied with the turn of events :)

Thoughts? Comments?

**Music: Hestia Prytaneum YouTube account under CH 3. Part 2**

**Graphics: Hestia Prytaneum Tumblr under Fanfiction or fb.**

Part 2 

**Music Club: **Cazzette - Blind Heart ft. Terri B! [Audio]

**Kiss scene:** Yael Naim- Toxic ( 16 bit dubstep remix )

**End scene: **Rage Against The Machine - Wake Up


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Not mine, nope, but I did reenact the scene of Red on the floor…I hope that counts for something ;-)

**Notes:** OH wow 102 reviews! Thank you all! :-D I got 99 problems, but a B*** aint one. I read them all, just did not have the time to respond to each one personally this time. Does happy dance, can't believe you lads & lasses like it. Also a thank you for the follows/fave's and guests popping by!

My apologies for taking so long! RL has been a bitch, but TBH so was this chapter. **Ch. 5** will be up sooner, I promise.

**Special Thanks** to my beta, the lovely **jadenanne7**, I take my hat of to you dear for helping a Blacklist starved wannabe writer. Shout out to Miss **FrostyFingers** – you awesome writer cookie thx for all the praise and **RedandLizzie **for recommending this story, I hope it won't disappoint.

As always, the **music **helps tell the story as well as the **graphics, both **can be found on my Tumblr account** ( ****hestia-prytaneum / tagged/ fanfiction**** )**

Okay then that's it, let's get this show rolling shall we.

XOXOXO

_**Previously **_

_The overpowering odor of lavender, paradichlorobenzene, and expensive cigars filled his nostrils before his eyes gradually blinked to a tunnel vision. Her limp body had disappeared and her shoes were no longer visible. Out of sight. All he saw was red. All there was was blood. _

_Red slowly batted his eyelids until he couldn't blink anymore. His whole world turned dark. He really wished this was some horrible nightmare and that he would wake up soon before his last thought struck him. "Lizzie…I am so sorry…." The music drifted away. An uncomfortable and eerie stillness. Lights out. Pitch black. _

**CH. 4 – The Magician. **

Agitated, confounded, and freezing. That was how Red felt at the moment. How in god's name did he end up in this conflagration of frozen hell? Another shiver assaulted his physique as he desperately tried to open his eyes. It was as if his eyelashes were glued on top of each other. His heartbeat was strong and rapid; his body, coated in cold sweat, made the damp broadcloth of his white dress shirt cling to his body like a second skin. Every part of his body ached...his fingers were slightly numb, his feet were throbbing, and hoof beats were pounding in his head. It was excruciating.

He tried to cough to clear his painfully dry throat and burning lungs, but all he got was dust and a tang of plasma. His nostrils felt as if they were stuffed with cotton and caked with old blood. It was hard to breathe through them; yet, there was no escaping the overpowering odor of blood, mixed in with a killer scent of bleach. He felt incredibly dehydrated and the stabbing pains in his back reminded him that someone had recently hit him. None too gently.

Guess it wasn't a nightmare after all. Not that this was anything new for him. Red had been in similar situations before. An occupational hazard. However, this time, he wasn't so sure that lady luck was on his side_. 'How could I have been so reckless?'_

Red had always been prepared for anything and everything. It was a necessity in his world. A checklist for his survival, not that he so much as cared for his life as he did for the ones he held most dear. Cared about. Loved. He had to stay alive to protect them. All of them, but most of all…_'Lizzie'._ His eyes popped open and groaned in pain as some of his lashes got ripped out of their roots by the sudden rash movement. It was never his intent to drag her into this _filth_. He would get her out, even if that meant risking his life. The ultimate sacrifice. His final act.

His eyes prickled as he tried to adjust his eyesight to the nominal lighting within the room, moving them made him feel dizzy. Nothing. Everything was still pitch black. _'Have I gone blind?'_

He lay facedown on a cold, very uncomfortable floor, covered in dust and tiny insects that crawled over his face and neck. Some tickled and some itched, nevertheless it was certainly not the most unpleasant feeling at the moment. Insects meant that Mother Nature was out there somewhere. If they could get in, he could get out. He attempted to glide backwards on his stomach, the buttons of his dress shirt pressed hard on his torso as he wriggled around, however his ankles were inflexibly tied together as well as his wrists, bound tightly behind his back, restricting his movements.

Red stretched his legs to see how far he could reach, his knees protested and bones cracked as the tip of his shoe hit another wall. He took a deep breath through his mouth to clear his mind and calm his body down. He was alive, and that could mean either one or two things: whoever took him needed him alive for information or wanted to torture him first and then put him out of his misery. It felt like Anslo all over again, only this time there was more at stake.

He tried to speak, to call for Lizzie, except his voice came out small, a hoarse, wheezy whisper, no more than a 30-decibel sound that only a dog could hear. A small, sad smile graced his lips. That would have been something if Hudson came to the rescue. The guardian of the canines. He chuckled at his own ridiculous, tired mind until he couldn't anymore. His body protested against every movement, no matter how benign_. _

'_You really did it this time, Ray. You have officially lost your mind.' _

How he regretted not telling anyone about their whereabouts, not even the almighty FBI. Too bad Donald wasn't around to chase his own tail; at least that would have been amusing to see. Certainly Agent Navabi would have the intellect to track Lizzie's cellphone, which was conveniently left in the Sedan. If whoever is behind this incursion, had not disposed of it already. As much as he despised working with the G-men, they did come with certain perks. Mr. Kaplan was out of town and he had guaranteed her that he would not get in too much trouble while she was away. Well, live and learn. The hard way.

Using his shoulders, abdominal muscles, pelvis, and the tiptoes of his shoes, Red mustered up all his strength and slithered sideways like a snake in the desert, until his right side hit another wall. _'Good...two walls so far, now let's find a door.' _

He tried to swing his body up, but he was still too weak, as if he had been hit with a hypodermic full of tranquilizer and his body was still fighting off the after effects. He was engaging in an inner monologue to configure a coherent plan of escape when he heard voices and the patter of footsteps coming closer and closer. He pricked up his ears and stretched his strained neck out to listen when the noises abruptly stopped.

A key turned inside a lock not far from him, unlocking and opening a heavy, metal, screechy door.

Red saw a man's figure outlined in the bright yellow light streaming from the half-opened entry, his eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion. His vision was distorted, but at least he could see. He lay at the far end of the room and had a direct view of a very white blob entering and closing the door behind it.

The room was unnervingly dark again, and all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears and the slow breathing of another person at the far end of the opposite wall. By his estimation, the room was no more than 7 yards in length and width. Squared.

"Wakey wakey, old man, it is time for some well needed supper!" a grating voice called, condescending with a tenor not dissimilar to the Joker. Pure evil.

Red groaned. He couldn't respond, even if he wanted to. There was no way in hell that he was going to eat anything this lunatic had prepared for him.

"Oops! Where are my manners? Let's shed some light on the situation, shall we?" the man stridently simpered, menacing as he flicked the light switch on. The center of the room came to life, illuminated by one soft, flickering, half-shielded orange light bulb hanging midpoint from the tall ceiling, projecting downwards. There was a single black folding chair placed right in the middle, not 10 feet in front of him.

Red let his eyes wander around the room; he was surrounded by concrete floor, while the outer walls remained obscure. All appeared bare. A bunker, perhaps. Just his luck, Wujing and this guy must have had the same decorator. _'They do love their greys.'_

The shadow figure slowly strode towards Red, then quietly sat down and crossed his right leg over his left, as light as a feather. His ostentatious, orange hued, snowy white patent shoes, pink socks, and linen pants were the only things perceptible in Red's blurred line of vision. He craned his neck as far as he could, but could not see past the man's knees and a metallic colored plate perched on top.

The man unexpectedly hurled the contents of the plate in Red's direction. Lukewarm liquid, and something squishy and rotten smelling hit him square in his face, while the plastic cup bounced off the back of his left shoulder, hit the floor and rolled away. He sputtered and coughed to get the ghastly stink and horrendous taste out of his mouth, but it was futile. His stomach turned as he suppressed the urge to hurl. He reeked of death and raw sewage as the fluid slowly dripped from his chin down to his already wet torso.

The man let out a rumble of high-pitched, vile, fake laughter as his whole body and chair shook, producing a rattling sound as it skidded over the floor.

'_Stupendous, the chair is loose,'_ Red thought, not in the least concerned about being the butt of this man's obviously tasteless joke.

"You should have seen your face! Priceless…." the man chortled, slippery as an eel. "Now be a good boy and clean up after yourself, will you? One would think that your mother hasn't taught you any proper etiquette." He shook his head lightly and smacked himself on the forehead, the muffled clash and cruel words echoed from the hollowness and high ceilings of the room. "Of course _not. _If I remember correctly, it was _your _father who raised you," he enlightened himself, snapping his fingers as if he were having one of those Eureka moments.

Red's eyes widened in shock, No one knew about his mother's passing. The ones that did know were individuals from a past long forgotten. His former self. "Who are you?" Red questioned, his voice slightly stronger than before, but still croaky and far from his normal smooth tone. He felt weak and insanely pathetic. Powerless.

The man shifted in his seat, unclasped his legs, got up, threw the plate on the chair with a deafening sound, and walked to two feet in front of Red, blocking the light with his imposing lanky stance. The overpowering odor of lavender, paradichlorobenzene, and expensive cigars jolted Red's memory in an instant. _'Mothballs.'_

"Doctor Noj Eisenkamp, I presume. What do you want?" Red growled out, his voice prickled with venom and his eyes cross as he eyed the blurred shoes in front of him. Adrenaline surged through his veins, anger awoke in the pit of his core, and his headache immensely intensified. His teeth clenched together, his hands balled into crushing fists; the zip ties dug harshly into his raw flesh from the sheer force, but did not budge an inch. He was furious.

"Ding, Ding, DING! We have a winner, ladies and gents!" Eisenkamp all but shouted to no one in particular. Apparently he was his own audience. He pulled up his pants legs and crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet to look Red right in the eyes, his off set pink tie swinging back and forth between his knees.

He had a mischievous glint in his raven black, cold eyes, deeply sunken under his straight, semi-translucent eyebrows, with a sharp nose that pointed towards his sinister sneer. Not one wrinkle adorned his smooth, perfect complexion and his forehead remained unmoving as his expression changed to one of pure amusement. He cocked his head to the side, the incandescent light reflecting off his Harry Potter wire trimmed glasses. His over-bleached hair created an unpleasant flickering orange halo, which was anything but angelic. Merely a wolf dressed in sheep's clothing.

Eisenkamp shrugged and shook his head lightly. "Well, sort of. I can't believe that you don't recognize me…" he whined and flattened his right, white cashmere gloved hand over his heart in mock hurt, protruding his lip in a pout, while his other rested on his knee.

"But then again, how could you? We have never formally met and I do look a little bit different. But you can call me The Magician, _and _this lovely place, my friend, is what I like to call…My Dungeon. Welcome!" he boasted, straightening himself up and slowly turning, with his hands up, as if he were a real-estate agent presenting the most beautiful room in the house.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly breathed out. Woosah."Ahhhhh...My favorite scent in the entire world...bleach makes everything just a little better, don't you agree? The scent of…_Cleanliness_." He reopened his eyes. "And what I really, _truly_ want is..." he drawled, when a heavy knock interrupted him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and yelled, "Yes?!" clearly annoyed.

The disembodied high-pitched voice on the other side sounded taut and a little bit tremulous. "My apologies for the intrusion, Sir, but it seems like the other one has woken up as well."

Red's eyes snapped up towards the door, suddenly very alert, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage _'Lizzie must be here somewhere.' _A blanket of relief washed over him before it dissipated, morphing into ice-cold fear as the realization of the ghastly situation hit him. _'What is he going to do to her?' _

Eisenkamp interjected his train of thought with an overly friendly, obviously fake apology. "_Pardon_ my rudeness, but it seems like one of my other guests are waiting for me to grace them with my ingenious presence." With that, he turned and briskly made his way towards the door.

"Wait!" Red exclaimed, finding his voice and causing Eisenkamp to turn his head while his right hand hovered over the door handle. With a tremendous surge of energy, Red swung himself up onto his right side, ignoring the stabbing pain still present throughout his body and leaned back against the wall.

"The woman you took, where is she?" he asked flatly, trying to deprive his voice of any emotions. He knew Eisenkamp wouldn't tell him, but he needed to gauge his reaction.

Eisenkamp's lips quirked into a pleased, closed lipped smirk. "You mean the pretty, blue eyed, brown haired girl with a body to die for?" he questioned, his cold eyes pinning Red to his spot with a malevolent glare. "If I were you, I would worry about myself. I already took care of her. She _was_…" He tapped his mouth with his left fingers, as if in deep thought, "quite the _fighter_..." he breathed out slowly after a moment.

Red's twitch beneath his left eye and jaw clench did not go unnoticed by Eisenkamp, whose smirk grew in response. "Now don't try to miss me too much while I am gone," he cooed before he switched the light off, left the room, and locked it behind him. The marching of two pair of footsteps slowly faded away.

'_At least ten large steps,'_ Red counted in his head before an eerie silence and total darkness flooded over him. Just him and his unsettling thoughts left to rot. He had brought them into this mess, put Lizzie's life in danger and right into the hands of this psycho. If she wasn't dead already.

'_No, he must be lying. Lizzie is alive. I can still feel her. At least Dembe or the twins must have gotten away and is attaining the cavalry,_' Red tried to reassure himself before shoving his thoughts away. This was not the time to let his doubts or Eisenkamp's words get under his skin.

He turned and shifted against the stony, rough wall until he sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. Too bad he was divested of his vest, tie, and jacket; he sure could have made use of his sunglasses and a bottle of aspirin. He took a deep breath in and slowly breathed it out, getting used to the ever-present stench. His head was killing him, yet nothing felt more poignant than the regrets overflowing his heart or the inner sadness that came over him.

'_God, a time machine would certainly be handy right about now. How the hell am I getting her out of here?'_

XOXOXO

**MEANWHILE AT THE POST OFFICE.**

"What do you mean they were not at the club?!" Cooper shouted at Aram, who slunk back in his seat as he rapidly scanned over the security footage of the outside entrance of 1OAK.

"Sir, I have examined the traffic cameras' footage and followed Mr. Reddington's Sedan to a few miles within the perimeter of the club before they entered a blind area. I hacked into the club's surveillance feeds and went over them, but there is just no evidence of Mr. Reddington, Dembe or Agent Keen ever making it there," Aram tightly responded, slightly scared of the stern look on his boss's face as he eyed him over his left shoulder. Not only that...sadly, the images were too dark to make out any clear faces.

Cooper sighed and placed his hands on his wrinkled, pinstriped, dark suit pants covered hips. His eyebrows scrunched together in a heavy frown and his lips formed a straight line. Why did he always have to be the one who cleaned up Reddington's mess when things went sideways? It had been several hours since he last heard from the incorrigible duo. He should have tagged Agent Keen with a Darpa tracking chip; it would have made his job a lot easier. "Did you hear back from Agent Navabi?" he questioned, more calm than he felt.

"Yes, Sir, she called about 10 minutes ago when the NYPD found Reddington's vehicle near Washington Square Park. There were three DB's discovered within...two men and one woman. CSU is still processing the crime scene. Agent Navabi said that she was going to follow up on some leads and then report back to us. However, we have been able to identify one of the victims as the Judge's bailiff. I am still running the other two through the database, but I am sure that we will have something soon," Aram answered nervously, brushing a hand over his night blue silk tie, which matched his expensive pocket square and slightly lighter sapphire suit. He really hated it, when one of his colleagues went missing. Just the thought of what a guy like The Magician could do to Agent Keen and Mr. Reddington gave him the hibbie jibbies.

Aram scratched the back of his head and glanced at the time stamp of the feed. _'Huh, that can't be right! How could I have missed that?'_ A flush colored his bearded cheeks; sometimes the pressure was too much. "Uh, Sir?" he tentatively voiced and then remained quiet, his eyes glued to the screen above them.

"What is it, Aram?!" Cooper asked while scanning through the case files. He was on edge and losing his patience. First Ressler and now this; the deputy was going to '86' him. He had a nagging feeling that something horrible had occurred and he feared the worse.

After losing Meera and all the havoc following, his team had been extra cautious with their dealings with the blacklisters. He could not believe that he trusted Reddington once again. The man was reckless to the point of suicidal and loved to pull the wool over his eyes. However, he could not deny his pristine track record or his irrefutable value to the task force. As much as he hated working with the man, he highly appreciated the Intel Reddington provided, and the scum that got eradicated from this earth, mainly due to his efforts. He just hoped none of his agents would follow suit. Not again. _'There has to be a connection somewhere.' _ They needed to hurry...time was not on their side.

Aram almost jumped out of his chair and hastily replied, "I think someone might have doctored the time stamps. You see there?" Aram questioned, pointing to the small digits at the right side of the monitor. "There is a wrinkle. The time jumps between 10.44 p.m. and 10.45 p.m. But we need the original footage just to be sure."

Cooper's deep brown eyes squinted behind his rectangle glasses, fixating on the numbers flashing over the screen; there was a mini second split between the times, almost unnoticeable if you were not looking for it. _'Reddington and Keen must have been there.' _They had no other leads. The bailiff was a dead end. Literally.

His boss's face and shoulders visibly relaxed and patted Aram's left shoulder. "Good work, Aram, now contact Agent Navabi, Ressler, and SWAT. I want them to fine comb that club with a toothpick if necessary. Nobody sleeps before Agent Keen and Reddington are accounted for, understood?!" Cooper exclaimed, glancing at the dozen frightened faces in the room before he turned around and made his way towards his office. He had a very important phone call to make, one he dreaded to no end_. 'Time to bite the bullet.'_

"Uh Sir? Agent Cooper, hold up!" Aram called out as he hastily made his way to his boss.

Cooper's white dotted, crimson red tie flew through the air before settling back on his ivory white pinstriped button up as he swiftly spun on his cane and pinned the tech with a curious glare, one eyebrow perched high on his forehead, lips pressed together in a tight smile. "Aram?"

Aram anxiously glanced around the room and leaned forward until there was less than a foot between them. "Sir, are you _sure_ about Agent Ressler? I mean he is still on his 'holiday'. But of course if you need him, I will phone him…but are you _sure_ that he is well enough to perform his duties adequately?' Aram questioningly whispered. He doubted that he was. Only direct task members were aware of Ressler's condition.

Cooper eyed the young man peculiarly and took a moment before he orotundly responded, "As much as I appreciate your concern, I highly doubt that Agent Ressler would mind cutting his vacation short for this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some pressing matters to attend to. Keep me updated on the status." With that, he turned around and wobbled back towards his office, indirectly dismissing Aram.

"Yes, Sir," Aram whispered to the back of his boss, mentally smacking himself against his forehead for his indiscretion. He didn't really feel like himself today. He truly hoped that his friends were alright. Mr. Reddington was a lot of things, but he would never let anything happen to Agent Keen, at least not intentionally, and he always got her out of the most impossible situations. Aram had to trust him on that. He really wanted to know why Mr. Reddington had chosen Agent Keen, but that was a question left unanswered. Perhaps indefinitely. Right now, he had the dreadful task of ringing Ressler and oh boy, would he be livid. For some reason he had and always would despise Mr. Reddington, despite all the good the man did. The bad always outweighed the good in Ressler's book.

XOXOXO

**THE FBI BATMOBILE**

Agent Navabi was on her way to pick Ressler up before heading over to 1OAK. She questioned if he was up for it, but it was all hands on deck. Right now, all that mattered was finding Keen and Reddington, safe and sound. Somehow those two got in a shitload more trouble in a short span of time, than the whole Mossad did in a year.

'_This task force will be the end of me,' _Samar thought as she swirled between the lanes, her army style boots errantly stuck on the gas, the blue and red strobe lights transfixing her into a highly alert state of empowerment as numerous cars irreversibly got out of her way to let her pass. She loved the thrill that a mission brought with it, a feeling stuck in between fear and exhilaration.

'_I hope that we'll make it in time.' _

Who was she kidding, they would have to be...she had unfinished business with Reddington and was just starting to like Keen, even though the feeling was not reciprocated. She understood why, probably would have felt the same way if the roles were reversed. Still, she could not shake the feeling that there was more to the story than met the eye.

Her mind desperately wanted to figure out where the pieces of the puzzle fit when it came to Reddington's and Keen's _relationship_. They weren't related….FBI DNA testing confirmed that. There was just something _off _about them that she couldn't quite put her finger on. They seem at odds some days and attached at the hip on others. Thank god, Liz didn't know what had transpired between her and Reddington a while back, and after her jealous confession, maybe it was better if she never found out. Once Pandora's box was opened, it couldn't be closed. Hell would follow, and she, for one, did not want to be on the receiving end of Keen's wrath.

Samar slowed down and parked the car in front of Ressler's 'Holliday Inn'. She could not believe how mediocre Ressler performed, yet, still got to be the lead agent on the task force. Five years of his life wasted chasing after Reddington, just to get beaten by a rookie agent and herself. That must have been a slap in the face. Twice. It would have made her feel inadequate too.

The ginger agent appeared well as he approached the black FBI issued GMC Yukon. His face clean-shaven, blue eyes prominent and vigilant, hair well groomed, gelled and sharply parted to the left. The only thing that betrayed his somewhat unruly mindset was the slightly disheveled clothes he wore: a grey-red checkered, miss buttoned lumberjack shirt, paired with slightly dirtied dark jeans and saddle brown Timberland rugged boots. Samar found his haircut atrocious, but she had to admit that the boy looked good in casual wear as she gave him a once over.

"Sorry, did not pack a suit for my trip," Ressler's breathy voice apologized as he took the seat on the passenger's side, mistaking her expression for one of disapproval.

Samar dismissively waved her right hand. "The only suit you'll need today is the one made out of Kevlar," she countered lightly, flashing him a smile as she reached to get Ressler the bulletproof vest from the back seat and handed it to him. Now they matched. Partners.

"Tell me...what is this all about? I got a disturbing call from Aram that Keen and Reddington are missing? How the _hell_ did that happen?" Ressler scoffed, clearly annoyed as he fastened his vest.

Samar kept her eyes on the road as they sped away before responding in a modulated tone "We got a call yesterday morning from local PD about a body found in Madison, near New York Penn Station. Apparently they had caught the perp red handed after shooting and killing Thomas J. Maloney in broad daylight."

"Sorry, you mean THE Thomas J. Maloney? As in Judge Maloney?" Ressler exclaimed, perplexed.

"Yes. Apparently the Judge was dirty, took bribes, rigged murder cases, and had a reputation for ruling without so much as glancing at the evidence. He let a lot of criminals go free because of his wanton negligence. He was under investigation by the federal bureau. They took him in before his overpaid lawyer arrived and was cut loose due to _insufficient _evidence. You know the funny thing about this whole ordeal?" Samar asked in a fruity voice.

Ressler quirked an eyebrow. "Is there a funny side?"

"More like ironic. The judge tattled himself into a corner and tried to justify his behavior by quoting the Blackstone's formulation: It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer." She shook her head lightly, pursing her lips while the corners lifted in distain and slight amusement. _'Greedy, arrogant son of a bitch. As if he wasn't rich enough.' _Surely the world was much better off without him.

Ressler mirrored her expression. The level of idiocracy that ruled the American Judicial System astounded him. Justice is supposed to be blind, not the judges or its operatives. That's why he loved men like Edmund Burke. _'The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.'_ At least he had a good moral compass, one Ressler found lacking within himself lately. He knew that most people thought that he was a thick, righteous prick, but you don't become the lead agent on Reddington's case for nothing. He had worked hard to get where he was and still did. He had just suffered from a momentary setback.

"What does he have to do with our case? Aram said something about a _magician_?" he questioned, a little dumbfounded. To be honest, he zoned out after he heard that Keen and Reddington were captured. His mind wasn't functioning at a 100% yet, but he would stop at nothing to find his partner and their asset.

"According to Reddington, The Magician is a man who kidnaps and brainwashes ordinary individuals into killing random, high ranking targets, without leaving so much as a trace of evidence behind. The shooters have no recollection after the fact and don't know anything about why or how they got to the crime scene. His service extends from the government to the elite of the underworld. There has been a significant loss on both sides in the US for over a decade spread over various states. The only way we know for sure that he is the one responsible for the killings, is because of his signature," she clarified, handing Ressler a card.

"What is this?" he inquired, studying the thin cardboard card as if he were analyzing a bug under a microscope.

"A tarot card. On the back you see the zodiac sign of The Magician. Le Bateleur, or The Magnus of Power. It means mastery of the material world, creative action, self-discipline, and a willingness to take risks. An ability to recognize one's own potential, the power to initiate, communicate, and wit. We found a similar one on the judge, just with a different front image. The judge had one of the Lady of Justice, with a sword in one hand, the scale in the other and was crying blood. We deducted that it is a message of sorts, directed at the amoral actions of the victims. The one you are holding is..."

"Speak no evil, See no evil, Hear no evil," Ressler finished for her, looking at the three funny looking monkeys and read the description._ 'Ancient Japanese Carving, 716 B.C. What does it mean?'_

"Exactly," Navabi nodded. "We believe that the victims found in Reddington's vehicle must have done just _that_ when they came in contact with The Magician. He is not known for leaving loose ends behind."

"Wait...you found Reddington's car? Where? Have you been able to identify them?" Ressler questioned as he gave the card back.

"On the road of 5th avenue, near the park, a few miles south from the club. Yes and no. We have identified one of the male DB's who sat behind the wheel as Lucius Robinson. He was the judge's bailiff, and, we suspect, hired The Magician to get rid off Maloney. He tried to run away from the crime scene before the cops took notice and apprehended him. Unfortunately, he was unwilling to cooperate until we got him into safety and now its impossible." Samar answered sadly.

"What happened to him?" Ressler asked sympathetically, aware of the emotion in his colleague's voice. Something went down.

"He slipped through our fingers when a highly trained crew of four men ambushed our vehicle this morning. I guess The Magician found him somehow," Navabi shrugged, ashamed to admit that she was present. "The other two sat in the backseats. One was a young blond woman in her mid twenties, the other an older gentleman in his late fifties. All three appeared to be strangled to death and displayed similar qualities to the three monkeys. The bailiff was missing his tongue, the girl her eyes, and the other male victim had both of his ears cut off. Not The Magician's normal MO. I believe that it was staged on purpose as a warning for what will happen to Dembe, Reddington, and Keen," Navabi expressed matter-of-factly.

"How are Keen and Reddington connected to all this?" Ressler asked gravely.

"In my opinion, Reddington knows who The Magician is, or at least has an inkling. He converted his own sting with Keen and himself as the leading characters on an undercover mission. He told us about the whereabouts of The Magician, but did not want the bureau involved because of, and I quote: _their incompetence._ He felt that it was better if he spoke with The Magician himself and would report back before midnight. This, of course, never happened. I did go to the location where he said they would be...you know, as backup. However, when I got there, there was no sign of Reddington, Dembe, or Keen."

Ressler's face contorted into a scowl. "Let me guess, the place he sent you off to was nonexistent?"

"Oh NO, it _exists_ alright. The nightclub was a front for a sadomasochistic underground party. Not the kind where you would think to find them at. It still sends chills down my spine…the _things_ people tend to willingly participate in. But, I did catch a handful of some _very_ powerful, married businessmen with their pants down. Now they owe me, big time." Samar responded with a smirk and quickly shook her head, trying to get rid of the disgusting images. "I was about to break up the merrymaking and leave, when I got a call from Cooper regarding a police report of possible gunshots fired at 1OAK. It is a high end club where we think Keen and Reddington were located," Navabi enlightened.

Ressler could have laughed at Reddington's conduct, if the situation had not been so dire. Why was he not surprised? _ 'Leave it up to Reddington to send the FBI on a wild-goose chase.' _It did explain why Samar wore a cobalt blue, slim fit, short cocktail dress, heavy make-up, and loose, fluffed out hair; the dark military boots, vest, and FBI windbreaker were the only items of clothing that did not match the rest of her outfit.

"I really hate that man," he mumbled, baring his teeth in a grimace. Even though his greatest enemy had bought him three more months with the love of his life, Reddington's recklessness would be the end of all of them. Hopefully, their ultimate sacrifice would make a difference for others someday.

If you could save the world by killing someone, would you do it? One of the questions asked by the Bureau, back when he was a rookie. Ressler knew his answer had always remained the same. One day he feared that all the good they did wouldn't be enough.

_He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster._

Maybe Reddington had it right all this time; it was the system that created the true criminals...with a badge or without. All this time, Alan Fitch had hid in plain sight, and although he had departed from this strange world, the question still lingered: was he good or bad? The lines had blurred over time.

_Difficulties multiply like dandelions for the cosmic humanist. _

Ressler knew the distinction between right and wrong, but nothing was black and white anymore...sometimes there were different shades of gray. However so, it begged the question: Do the ends justify the means?

"What do you have against Reddington?" Samar asked out of the blue, as she cut through traffic as fast as possible. The strobe light shifted from red to blue, reflective of their serious expressions, heightening their current frame of minds.

Ressler's eyebrows shot high up his forehead. "Besides the obvious? Let's just put it this way...we _share_ a history," he replied flatly.

Samar nodded. "Right." Of course they did. She was just about to ask him about said history when the phone ringing interrupted her. It was Aram. She answered and put him on speaker. "Aram, what have you got for us?"

"Agent Navabi, Agent Ressler, we got a hit on the two other victims. The young woman is Annie James Parker, a part of the notorious grifter twins, nicknamed The Angels. A minor rap sheet, which I will inform you on later. But, get this...the male victim's name is…_Vito Andolini_," Aram informed them in his best fake Italian accent. "He is the owner of 1OAK. Reddington and Keen must have been there and hopefully still are. I am forwarding you the layout of the building right about…_now_."

"Thank you Aram. We have just arrived at the club. I will call you as soon as we are done processing it," Samar replied with a small smile before she hung up. She really liked Aram's silliness. It was adorable.

Samar turned off the car's engine and reached beneath her seat to unclip a weapon. "Here," she said, handing Ressler a Glock Model 22.

Ressler looked pensively at the object before grabbing it out of her hand and feeling the weight of it in his own. It had been a while since he had handled one. He wondered if he still had it in him. He was anxious to find out.

Samar glanced over at her colleague, who sat still and shifted his gaze to the scene in front of them. The team had already secured the place and appeared to be waiting on them, while more than two dozen cops were questioning witnesses at the other side of the tape. The commotion was quite an impressive sight.

"Are you okay?" Samar asked curiously, with sincere concern in her voice.

Ressler turned his head and they locked eyes. "I am fine," he answered briskly with confidence. He was ready. His lip twitched into a small smile.

"Thank you for the gun. Now, let's get this nutjob before we lose another agent," he said before his face set back to his regular expression, somewhere between a scowl and seriousness. Their moment was over when he stepped out of the car and started organizing a plan of attack with the team surrounding him.

Samar wondered if there was more to Ressler that met the eye. He had a determination unlike any other agent. Beneath that tough guy exterior he cared tremendously about his fellow man, and she had no doubt that he would give his life for his colleagues, or maybe there was more between him and Keen. She had seen his wandering eye now and again. He needed to get himself straightened out first before he could even consider initiating a relationship. And if it was Keen he wanted, than she wished him all the luck in the world with that. He had to get through Reddington to get to Keen. Like that would ever happen. She sure hoped that she would be around with front row seats if it did. It was just another reason to save the incongruous trio. Sooner rather than later.

She shook her head; a fleeting smile graced her lips before she got out of the vehicle and joined the rest of the squad led by Special Agent Donald Ressler.

"Ok, people listen up…."

XOXOXO

**A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY READERS! MAY IT BE A SPLENDID ONE FILLED WITH JOY. :-D** Love to hear what you think before you stuff yourself ;-) **XO. **

_Everything has a meaning and there is a meaning to everything_…words I live by when writing this. Sorry it took me a while, had to write the whole case first in order to have it make sense and spread clues.

The Magician's Tarot cards, description, music, graphics etc. can be found on my tumblr page for those who are interested. **( hestia-prytaneum / tagged/ fanfiction )**

**MUSIC: **

**First scene :** U2 – Love is blindness

**The Magician :** Tribute to the Joker - U2 - Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me.

**Red's mind : **Nine Inch Nails – hurt

**Car scene : **Epic Music – Car chase

**End scene : **Bleeding - muddy water

**DECEASED CHARACTERS:**

**Vito Andolini** :The 1OAK's club owner a.k.a The godfather

**Judge Thomas J. Maloney** and his sidekick

**Lucius Robinson** are real people, their story was based on a true case.

**Annie James Parker** :one of the twins, RIP.

**ABRIVIATIONS:**

**NYPD ** - New York Police Department

**CSU** - Crime Scene Unit

**86** - Getting rid of something/someone.

**1OAK **- 1 Of A Kind club NY

**Perp **- Perpetrator

**MO **- The Method of Operation

**QUOTES: **

'He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster.' **Friedrich Nietzsche**

'Difficulties multiply like dandelions for the cosmic humanist.' **New Age Ethics - Worldviews**


End file.
